The Hunter's Game
by EnchanteRhea
Summary: When your enemy is not what he appears to be, there is nothing to be sure of anymore, not even yourself. A hunter may turn into prey, a friend into foe, an opponent into ally. New task, new obstacles, and who’s hunting whom, this time?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I don't own Van Helsing.

**_Contradictions_**   
**_By Rhea _**   
**_rheavigilant at hotmail.com_**

**I. Prologue**

"Bless me, father, for I have sinned." 

Yes, I have. Not once, not twice. I have sinned so many times that to an average observer, the number would be countless. Contradiction? Not really. I remember every single time I watched them die, watched them become the men they once were. I guess my mind subconsciously counts every single time I have acted against myself, against the laws of God, in the name of God. Contradiction? Not really. Or if it is, then so is my entire life. But of that I cannot be certain. 

There are times when I wonder, what's there to be sure of besides the color of blood. That's but one thing that seems to stay constant. In the world which seems to be turning no better, despite the ironically evil crusade against, well… evil, few are things that stay the same. But, who knows that demons of darkness, fought and slain, even dead never stop haunting the living. 

I do. And I know they do, too. That's the price they chose to pay, only it's not them who pay it. 

They say that having memories of those you have loved, and lost, is worse than having no memories at all. And I say, it would be, if the 'no memories' part were taken for what it is. But, it is not. Not when you fight your way through hell just so you don't burn in it. Remembering is good, but not remembering gives you purpose. A goal you go for, at any and all means, for the time being ignoring all the possible consequences that come with remembering. 

Temet nosce. 

I sometimes wonder, how would it change me. To know. To find the missing pieces. To put them all together, and, looking in the mirror, know who I am. I live by what I believe; would I still believe in what I live by? In every truth there's a bit of a lie; is there a bit of good mingled with all the evil? 

Then there is love, or something resembling it as closely as it can. Love that turned into a curse, a burden. Its weight lies heavy upon my chest, a reminder of what I have done that is all but subtle. There's an image in my mind; an almost visible breeze of life, passing quickly but quietly from her eyes open wide, lips parted, a streak of blood on the floor. Passing into me, to save me. Out of her and into me, slowly, seeping out of her, sinking into me. A dance of spirits above my head, mourning her death for the sake of my rebirth. I cannot see it, for my vision is blurred; senses confused by the change of my form from one monster into another. 

I killed you, Anna. I watched you die, and I did not understand. I watched life escape you and I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that salvation was but short ways of damnation for me. Then and there, in that very moment, as I came back to life yet one more time, a thousand years of grief had reached the foundations of my soul. A tear shed then was for you, for all I have killed. A silent, tearing sob, when a hand placed gently upon your chest felt no heartbeat anymore, was for myself. 

For you I cried those bitter tears, but then I knew; as days pass, it is just another face to stand against in restless sleep. A faint memory that lingers within me against my will. A cause to be torn between the need to remember, and inability to do so without being consumed by a searing flame of guilt. 

* * *

So, this is the prologue. After watching the movie, I was just too tempted to write something. If you like it, there might be more.

Note: 'Temet nosce' means 'Know thyself'


	2. The Haunted Hunter

**II. The Haunted Hunter**

_Life has become somewhat a routine, but I have yet to decide whether it's better, or worse that way. Living on the run leaves no time for needless things, things like dwelling on the past too much. Well, at least as much of it as I have. I learned a long time ago; if something haunts you, and it doesn't walk the earth spreading the fires of evil, better let it sit until you can do something about it. I couldn't allow myself lose my focus and fail, now could I? There's a little voice at the back of my mind that keeps reminding me it is not just about me. Sacrifice such as this is a test of faith, and yet so much more than that. _

And yet, the more I think about it, the better I realize that once a thin thread of recognition silently connected the loose ends of memories in my mind, it's becoming far too difficult to push them aside and just continue on my way. In every man, woman and child, it their faces, I see bits and pieces that are somehow familiar to me. As though I have killed them before, and they remembered me, if only subconsciously. I feel their eyes set on me as I pass by, some of them looking with morbid curiosity, some with great loathing, some with mere disgust. As though they knew me, as if they could see inside my chest, where my heart is slowly dying. 

Something has changed in the way I perceive them, both the good, and the evil. I could always sense their true nature, in my eyes the flame burning at their hearts was crimson and fierce, if fueled up by some dark powers. I could see through the veil of indifference, I could read their intentions like in an open book. Now, even from afar, their auras shine about them with a variety of colors - green, when they're hopeful and at peace; blue, when they're despairing but have not yet lost all hope; red, when they're driven by wrath and hurt. And black, pitch black, when they're evil. 

White, when they're in love, passes unnoticed. I cannot bear looking at it. 

It took me a while to get used to it; yet even now, sometimes I feel like I'm granted more knowledge about people than they ever wish - or need - to reveal to me. And more often than not I'm ashamed of myself, for I can't help the feeling that they see my own aura growing gray under the burden of my sins. 

Transylvania welcomed him no more - after all, it was not just evil that perished in his attempts to vanquish it. He never marveled anymore, how people could see he had freed them from troubles, and yet at once they blamed all else on him, too. They never thanked him, and he never expected any gratitude. It was part of the deal, and perhaps sometimes it was easier that way. Let them feel hatred if they would, most people are better off with someone to be held responsible for all that went wrong. It lets them move on, he knew, and since he could do nothing about it, he silently agreed to let them have it. 

Perhaps they too needed a goal to continue with their lives, and if it meant they would be chasing him, he had long since stopped worrying about it. 

He didn't count days on his way back to Vatican City. He even barely spoke to Carl, only on rare occasions allowing himself a brief conversation. And, even that mostly concerned mundane matters, such as where they would eat or spend the night. 

He steered clear of crowded places, avoiding encounters with strangers as much as he could. Thus, at nights he would often try and forget the need of sleep, walking silent, sleepy streets if they stopped in a town, or small forest paths, back and forth, until the morning came and their journey could be resumed. 

Carl knew better than to prod him to talk about it. The friar, careless as he was, had developed almost infinite patience for his companion, giving him the time he most obviously needed to deal with the recent happenings his own way. Maybe once or twice he would start a small talk that, according to his plan, was supposed to lead to something deeper, yet Van Helsing caught those attempts as they went and refused to talk about it. 

His welcome was quiet, as it always was - weary of the journey, Van Helsing wanted nothing more than a little rest. He used the time he had best as he could, keeping in mind that he never knew when a new task would be given to him. At first, he hoped that it would not be soon; the last assignment, its outcome, as well as his scars were still fresh, and none but God and Gabriel himself knew how it hurt to suffer his mind going back to it, with or without his consent. For his deeds he was commended, but it meant little when he knew that the price paid for the sake of victory over evil had been great. 

He wondered at how fond of him had Carl grown over their long journey; yet the company of the friar was but another reminder of things he had come to refuse to remember. He sought solitude, and in it he sought answers. When none came, and scattered bits and pieces of information became a breeding ground for always more and more questions, he grew restless and began to long for a reason to set off again. 

Twenty-second day since his return found Van Helsing walking back and forth in his quarters, counting minutes and hours till sunrise. He knew he would find no absolution there, not then, not yet. All he could do was try and keep himself occupied while his life would or would not uncover its former secrets to him. He knew, too, that the Order would do all but let him sit idle while evil beings still troubled the world. 

At dawn, a knock on his door came not unexpected. 

He welcomed it, a new errand, new goal and a so needed anchor point for his mind to set on. The tidings came across Europe of Liam, a warlock, growing in power on the southern coast of Ireland. Little was known of him, save that, by no law, he entitled himself prince, and in less than a year most villages nearby his dwelling had been abandoned, their inhabitants scattered across the land, bearing news of strange deaths and disappearance of their children. Those who dared roam those lands often would not return; those who did, told tales of wraith-like men and women, every now and then even children, hunting at night, seeking prey. 

Those tales were scarce, brief, lacking detail of both the warlock and his apparent servants. And yet one factor made this case one of particular interest as far as Van Helsing was concerned - the survivors, how few of them lived to tell of their strange fates, spoke of those demons having wings. 

The journey would be long, he knew, and with permission, decided to set out alone. It came across his mind once or twice that a company of two could perhaps achieve more; and yet he chose not to take the risk of losing a companion again. He was troubled enough as it was, and responsible as he felt for anyone who traveled by his side, he doubted he was ready for taking such responsibility again as of yet. 

When told of Van Helsing's decision, Carl thought for a while before he nodded understandingly. He looked solemnly towards the stairs. He too knew that it was better that way, if he stayed where he was safe. For a while he considered going after him, but only when Van Helsing was three days away did Carl understand - that man was better off on his own, at least until he reached a consensus with whatever haunted him and sat, yet undiscovered, on the pages of the book of his past. 

****

He rode hard, having resolved to halt only when his steed needed to rest. Once on the road again, he couldn't bear needless delay. Days and nights he moved on at great speed, as though he hoped that he could leave all the burdens with the distance behind him. He refused to admit that speed or haste was no remedy. The further he went from the only place he remembered as home, and the closer to his destination, he still felt as though he was merely going in circles. Nothing changed; with the distance he covered, the last hope of trading searing for numbness proved vain. 

It had been easier in the past, he thought to himself, as yet again he denied himself the right to rest. It had been easier on him, when he knew no pain of a loss that he could match with a face, voice, touch of gentle skin. Loss how he had once known it felt different, less intense. It had a source, but he knew nothing about it, thus he would not miss it. There had been no person of flesh and blood for his mind to build from misty shreds of memories in restless sleep. Now there was one, and she had a name. And, she was gone. 

When he thought he had a choice whether or not to remember, he realized there was really no choice at all. There was only one heart, one mind to be fed with hope that it indeed had been a greater cause that justified his deed. 

_His deed._ Then he knew that words would not veil it, no matter how he put it in his mind, he could only see it for what it was - murder. _You killed her_, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind when the latter would be found unguarded. _Murderer._

On the thirteenth day, as the sun began to set for its nighttime rest, Van Helsing halted near the edge of the forest. Looking ahead, far ahead of him where the burning line of the horizon illuminated with all hues of red, he knew he needed more than an hour or two of sleep before the next day. There was something strange about that land; an eerie, fleeting sensation carried by the cold wind passed through him, leaving his mind set and alert. He understood that peace had long since abandoned those lands, unwillingly yet swiftly making room for evil to reign. He could sense it, the familiar chill down to the bone was an unmistakable sign. 

* * *

**Author's notes:** Thank you to all of you who have so far reviewed this story. I'm glad you like it, and I hope you enjoyed reading the second chapter just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Since the story was met with some interest from you, dear readers, I'm going to continue it. I can assure you there's a whole plot prepared to be utilized, if only you're still willing to read =)


	3. Third Time's the Charm

**III. Third Time's the Charm**

Long, cold fingers crept from under the ground, out of nowhere, barely few feet from the fire. It struck him how the creature was fearless of flames; while at most times they fled from it or turned and twisted in loathing of it, this one - whatever it was, he had yet to find out - was apparently unconcerned. He made a quick mental note to scratch fire out of the list of possible means to destroy the opponent. 

There he stood, unmoving, holding his breath. His back pressed firmly against a tree, he watched the pale-skinned hand as it emerged, slowly, behind a fallen tree trunk. Black soil stained the long, bony fingers; inch by inch it moved slowly towards the fire, towards his hiding place. He noticed how, in an instant, his heartbeat had quickened; and he marveled for a split second at the reactions of his own body. 

It felt as though he didn't know it anymore, as though he knew himself no more. Unable to trust his body to stay calm when calm was what he needed to come victorious out of that encounter, he felt strangely naked, exposed to the enemy's cunning traps. Strange, how fear struck him, how it was eating him down to the bone, gnawing at his stomach. As though his calm mind, dead-set on more than merely staying alive, was suddenly imprisoned in a disobedient shell. 

His dark, hazel eyes followed the gray-skinned hand as it crept on the ground, never halting, never lingering a second on its way to the place of encounter. It seemed as though it knew what it sought, while he was not yet sure what it was that awaited him. Knowing this only made his uneasiness grow stronger. It had always been that he knew what he would deal with, that he had been prepared. Now, a quick thought brought two potential turns he could take - he could either emerge from his shadowed place at once, attacking fiercely and praying that he proved stronger - or more cunning - or he could barely wait for the situation to unfold. For the time being, he chose the latter. 

Soundlessly he shifted his weight, his right hand reaching to his side, where he knew his sword had been strapped. He heard a soft sound just above his head, and looked up. 

Suddenly he felt he could move no more, nor lift his hand, nor even draw a breath. Eyes shot open wide in surprise, he would have gasped had it not been for something clutching at his throat, digging sharply into his skin. He felt his left hand being dragged behind his back, then his right, and between one attempt to catch his breath and another, he discovered that he could do nothing about it. 

He looked ahead, the only direction where he could turn his sight while being held firmly by the ice-cold fingers. The hand that crept the ground had meanwhile reached its destination. He bashed himself in his mind for letting that slip his attention; now it was too late, the body part halted in front of him, as though it was watching. Now he could see it right for what it was - a hand, a single limb, parted from the body that must have once belonged to a large man. Just above his head, another alike limb crawled down, he felt it in his hair, long fingers running through the dark, wet strands. 

He felt droplets fall on his face, as the other hand slid down his forehead, swung in front of his eyes and clutched at his temples. Now, he could see no more. He could only deduce that what stopped him from breathing was yet another hand, alike to those that he had noticed, for the grasp on his neck and the small cuts in his skin felt like fingernails, he could make no mistake about it. He felt a run of shivers pass quickly down his spine at the thought of it; once more, an alarm went off in his mind, for his body disobeyed him again. All attempts to stay calm and try to wriggle his way out of the grasp proved in vain, while his body grew weaker with the lack of air. 

Black spots began to dance before his covered eyes. The fire searing his lungs, longing for even short, shallow breath, became far too intense to allow him keep his mind clear. He struggled, with the remnant of his strength, to break free from the bonds, yet all he could do was feel as his eyes watered under the holding hand, and tears stained his face, mingling with the rain. 

At once, as the grip on his throat loosened but a little, he screamed, on top of his lungs, desperately drawing a spasmodic breath. Eyes shut tight, he shook his head, then froze to a voice behind him. 

_"Gabriel!"_

In a chorus of whispers around him, one voice rose up, clear yet faint, calling out to him. It sounded familiar, the very sound of the voice, its pitch, how it reverberated in his mind. One word - a familiar word, a name that meant something and yet nothing at all. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy and refused to obey the orders of his mind. In a split second he wondered whether or not it was really his will to see whence the voice came, and whom it belonged to - he sensed evil, yet it was within him, somehow it found a way straight into his heart, speeding up its race… 

__

His eyes shot open in a split second; to what, he was not sure. Holding still, he looked around, listening intently to the sounds of a peaceful night. Around him, all seemed tranquilly quiet, disturbed by nothing save his unobtrusive presence. And yet, something had brought him back to his senses, and he knew it was not the dream that found him trembling, chilled down to the bone. 

Shrugging off the invisible remnants of restless sleep, Van Helsing forced his mind into full focus. Something was down there - or someone - he could feel it, the air of disarray around him, a scent he could not recognize, though he had not yet seen its source. Bewildered a little at how sharp and clear was his vision despite the pitch black darkness, now, when his mind was on its peak of alertness, he soon saw it - a faint shadow, merely few feet to his right. As quietly as he could he prepared to leap while the shadow moved slowly towards him, yet for the time being, he remained unmoving. 

A dark, tall figure, clad in black with a hood hiding the face in shadows sauntered forth, steps unwavering, making nearly no sound at all. The man's muscles tensed as the stranger approached him; in his mind, he counted to three before he leapt up rapidly, drawing the long, double-bladed knife from its sheath. 

Just as he landed on his feet in front of the assailant, the other leapt backwards, sinking into a stance. The dark hood fell back; for all Van Helsing could see, it revealed straight hair reaching the person's shoulders. At a distance, and judging solely by the garb he could perhaps have been mistaken, yet a look so close left no room for error - the soft curves of that face told him it was a woman. Furthermore, she appeared to be studying his figure with care, a smirk now evident on her face. 

They strafed around each other in a wide arc, both cat-like, regarding one another warily, eyes never leaving those of the other. The woman swung her blade, locking her both hands on the hilt and setting the rapier vertically in front of her. Eyes glued to her opponent, the hunter paced slowly around him, fully focused, watching out for every slightest twitch of his muscles that would signify a sudden assault. 

Losing patience at last she lunged forward, advancing on him swiftly yet warily. Van Helsing met her blow with ease, his block countering hers from the right. Blades clashed loudly, echoing in the otherwise quiet woods as she swept his counter blow aside, now fiercely staring into the man's eyes. 

"Van Helsing. We meet again," she hissed, slowly taking a small step backward. She lowered herself, sinking into a waiting stance and swung her rapier mere inches from his face. The sharp blade cut the air with a loud swish. 

The man did not move. "Evening," he nodded his greeting, not without a dose of mockery. "Fruitful chase?" 

Two more quick steps backwards took the bounty hunter in a sword's length distance from her duelist. Far enough, she mused, an instant before she leapt up, and came down on him with a straight downward strike. 

Van Helsing ducked, spinning away quickly, but the hunter wasted no time. She went in for another swift strike. This time, caught in a sword lock, they struggled for a while, staggering back and forth whenever one of them applied more force into pushing the other off balance. 

"At last. You sure as hell _are_ hard to track down," the woman breathed, putting all strength she could spare into pushing him away. 

Van Helsing backed away, breaking the lock and ducked with a quick whirl. The momentum sent the bounty hunter forward, nearly sending her onto the ground. Had he not moved away in time she would have, in all likelihood, landed on top of him. He pondered it for an instant, eventually deciding against it. This close a contact would give the hunter advantage of him; an advantage she would most certainly use against him while he meant not to kill her. All he had to do was create an opportunity for himself to vanish and stop her from following him, if only for some time. 

Casting a hateful look in his direction, the woman reached out her left arm to regain balance. Quickly she drew a deeper breath to steady herself, and inclined her head, albeit slightly, in respect to the cunning trick. 

The man's face was set, eyes fixed upon her when she met them. Van Helsing caught her movement out of the corner of his eye, and bowed back with a smirk. "Truly, Leah. Some things never change," he spoke softly, his right brow furrowed and climbing into his hairline. "You still have a knack for bad timing." 

With a smirk still painting his face, he advanced on her, whirling gracefully with his blade raised, halting abruptly right before her. Instinctively, Leah ducked the blow that never came. Head tilted, she glanced at him with her narrowed eyes. "It's nice to see you, too. _Again_," she scoffed. 

With that, she let loose a slash aimed at his neck. Van Helsing caught the blow with his own, much stronger, and leapt backwards short ways away from her. Once more sent off her balance, the bounty hunter landed on her knee with a quiet groan. She rose quickly, shrugging her shoulders. 

Van Helsing waited as she sauntered forward, her legs bent slightly in her knees. The fallen leaves rustled under her feet as she paced around him, her eyes fixed upon his face. He turned soundlessly along with her, keeping eye contact, seeking opportunity to issue an efficient, yet not deadly strike. 

He would not kill her, he couldn't. Even in the darkness he could see her aura glowing crimson red. Wrath drove her, yet the inflamed air about her was not stained with black. In a way he understood her; the bounty hunter's life was not so much unlike his own, only now he happened to be the hunter's prey. 

It had been a while since their last encounter; Van Helsing tried to remember how much time had passed - three, perhaps four years. He barely remembered meeting her for the first time many years before; yet he could tell that she had since lost her blithe manners, her eagerness had grown into anger. Yet at once he perceived that it had made her nigh reckless. No less vigilant, no less acute, yet much more daredevil. 

Nonetheless, that was how it went - he always remembered - the hunter could turn into prey, only he could not afford it. Whatever she had planned for him this time, whether to take him dead or alive, he had no choice but to make sure she would not succeed without doing her harm. 

Leah darted in and out of his space, her light steps now quieter on the ground. He had to stop her, although he knew well that it would enrage her the more, urging her to seek him again in due time. As she advanced on him once more, striking with great force, he went in for a quick riposte. She darted towards him, and he met her half way in a flurry of blows, faster and faster, forcing the woman to back away with every precise strike. 

Around them, all had suddenly grown quiet as Leah could move backward no more, her back pressed against a thick tree. She held him at her blade's length, breathing hard. Arm trembling slightly, she brushed the back of her other hand across her face, holding up her opponent's gaze. 

"You're getting old," Van Helsing slurred as if to himself, yet made sure she had heard him well. He lowered his own blade to the ground, watching the woman cautiously as she used the precious seconds to steady her breath and regain some strength. It might be a big mistake, he mused, to let this drag for too long, yet now it was no longer his choice. 

"So are you," she retorted, pulling herself away from the tree. "What brings you here?" 

She darted out of his way in a low whirl, swinging her blade against him. Metal clashed against metal as Van Helsing took a quick turn, sweeping the blow aside. She countered that from below, forcing a lock and pushed on, her both hands locked upon the hilt of her weapon. 

The duelists halted, looking each other in the eye. Van Helsing pushed the woman away, this time him being the one keeping his opponent at a distance. "Business," he said, as matter-of-factly as he could. He felt a strange shiver run down his back, uncanny fear shot straight through him. A sudden, strong blow of chilly wind pulled him out of focus. His eyes darted around, meeting only pitch black darkness, lit by the moonlight only where the thick branches let a faint beam of light fall upon the land. 

Leah lowered her blade, letting its tip rest lightly on the ground. "Then we're here on common purpose." 

"Quite contradictory, I daresay," the man muttered, "Unless, of course, I'm wrong, and it's not me you're after." 

"I hate to have to disappoint you, but you know what they say," she paused, letting out a slow breath, "Third time's the charm." The bounty hunter's eyes narrowed as she studied him, half-expecting to meet a sudden blow, half-hoping it wouldn't come. She threw back her head, letting the wind remove the short strands of her hair from her face. 

The man smirked. "Last time I checked, I wasn't the _most_ wanted man in this part of the country." 

Wasting no time to wait for his answer, Leah lunged forth, coming down on him with a right-sided blow. Van Helsing could see her strength was failing her, for he found her easy to counter. Both of them halted again, Leah drawing a short breath, her duelist bowing out of the encounter as he sank, cat-like, into a relaxed stance. The woman rolled her eyes, and said, "Up north you are. But it's all the same to me, Van Helsing. Let's see who'll get their business done." 

Just as he prepared to intercept another blow, a quiet, hardly distinguishable rustle in the treetops far above them drew Van Helsing's attention. In an instant he was back by the tree where he had stopped for the night, the crossbow in his hands, armed and ready to shoot. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Leah back away slowly, trying as she might not to make a sound. He shot her a quick look, pointing upwards as he pressed his back against the tree. 

They made their appearance quietly and without drawing too much attention; for an untrained ear, the soft sound of their wings could pass for the treetops moving slowly on the wind. Van Helsing counted the shadows as they grew longer; one, two, three, too big for a bird, too small for a… 

"Gangrels!" hissed Leah, ducking behind a tree, a small crossbow in her hands. She aimed and launched a bolt towards where the shadows had landed, yet soon a soft sound could be heard as it fell limply onto the ground, missing its aim, utterly harmless. The hunter cursed under her breath, dropping quietly to her one knee as she drew a fresh supply of bolts. As she was ready to join in the fight, everything fell silent. 

Peeking from behind the tree where she had last seen Van Helsing, Leah found him staring into darkness, his own deadly weapon ready in his hands and aimed at something far above his head. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed three shadows, distancing themselves at a fairly great speed. She arched an eyebrow, tilting her head left a little as she tried to process what had happened. 

"Wraiths on wings…" 

Van Helsing's quiet whisper broke the dead silence, pulling Leah out of her reverie. Greatly bewildered, she paced back and forth, now and again glancing towards the edge of the forest. "Vampires. Damned creatures, hell-spawned blood-suckers," at last she spat angrily, still carefully studying the treetops for any signs of movement. She knew better than to trust the vampires to be gone. Not when she failed to understand the reason they had fled; as did Van Helsing himself, who sent her a faintly puzzled glance as she turned once more to face him. 

"You could hunt down those, rather than waste your time on me," Van Helsing smirked, yet upon seeing the mixture of both anger and confusion painting the woman's face, his own went back to apparent indifference. "Something's made them flee…" he trailed off, looking to where the creatures had gone. 

His words were more of a statement than a question. Yet Leah, angry as she was, read it otherwise. "Beast hunter is _your_ damn cover, Van Helsing, you tell me," 

Some things never change. Van Helsing's face twisted in a wry smile, "I hate to have to disappoint you, but in fact I was counting on getting that answer from you," he riposted, allowing a brief thought linger in his mind that the woman still held to her belief that he was nothing but a liar, murderer, of the sort she hunted down for a living. 

Her rapier raised, Leah leapt forth, forcing the man immediately into a defensive stance. She knew all too well that her chance was not in making him weary, yet rather in catching him off guard - if that was even likely to happen, she did not know. "Whatever it was, it bade them gone. But we're not done yet," she called out to him, resuming their duel. 

Countering her blow with his own, Van Helsing shook his head. "My, Leah, you will never change. Has Ireland run out of villains to chase?" The question was rhetorical, yet in all likelihood the bounty hunter would not leave that unanswered. The game had begun a long time ago, their dance, the contradiction of purposes and yet their strange similarity was too strong a driving force to resist it. 

With a small nod, Leah's face grew solemn. "I'm just short on money. Nothing personal." 

Once more she stroke, yet by then Van Helsing had realized that time was running short. The sky had already begun to clear up, here and there the white strands of clouds stained the shadowy blanket of the firmament, the first glow of the rising sun shining in the east. He knew he had no time, and while the game was far from over, it must now be stopped or else delay would cost him more than he was willing to pay. 

Few quick steps forth, flawlessly synchronized with swift blows - of which all could have been deadly, had Van Helsing wished to bring death upon his adversary - found Leah backed against a tree, with his blade less than an inch off her throat. Their gazes locked for a split second, a passing trace of regret reflecting in one hunter's eyes, a hint of fear and disbelief in the other's. She knew better than to struggle, he knew better than to think she would risk her life more than she already had. 

But the game, their game, it was not yet over. 

"You've gotten good," Leah breathed, trying not to move needlessly, for the sharp edge of Van Helsing's blade cut her skin if she did. Her own sword dropped to the ground; she would not dare move when that man, that _murderer_, held her life in his hands. 

Long silence followed, broken only by the quick, rhythmic pounding of the hunter's heart. He could hear it, its sound clear, beating to the song of death she was sure would echo among the trees, them being the only witnesses to mourn her passing. How he hated to taunt her, make her believe she would die by his hand, as had many she knew he had slain. After all, it was but a game, one they both had agreed to play. Yet, only Gabriel knew what truly was at stake. That game, begun years before, was their slippery slope - at that point, the only way was down. He had no choice but to play along. 

"Disappointing you in every field would be far too easy," he said carefully, voice saturated with unnatural glee. 

"Enjoying yourself, Van Helsing?" Leah spoke slowly, closing her eyes for a brief moment. There was bitterness in her voice, unlike in those he had killed, who believed until their last breath escaped them that they would not be conquered. "Savoring the last moments before you put a tick next to my name on your to-kill list?" she continued meanwhile, her eyes shot open but it took a while before she looked back at him, straight in the eye. 

He let out a small sigh, releasing his grip on her a little. "I have no reason to trust you'll believe if I say its not on it," he said in tone of infinite patience, and mentally crossed fingers that it would be convincing. He stared into her face, yet his eyes unfocused and for an instant, he saw her no more. A memory flashed in his mind of a dream, a faint voice calling out his name rang in his ears. Yet it fled before he could focus on it enough to recall any detail, nor was it due time for cloudy memories. 

"What's all this for, then?" 

Leah's voice pulled him out of his reverie. Their eyes met, Van Helsing's flickering around before he gazed down at his own blade at the woman's throat, her finger pointing at it significantly. "Your protection," he spoke quietly, as with one smooth, quick movement, he drew something from his coat. 

Before she knew what had ensued, Leah collapsed onto the ground, utterly senseless. Van Helsing caught her gently, and carried her numb body deeper into the forest. He knew that, at least for now, she was better off as far away from him as she could be, unaware as she was of what would come to pass in the coming hours. If truth be told, he was not sure either - but, at least he was aware of what he was going to have to do. For her, hunting him was merely a job. Another name on the list of most wanted men in Europe. Perhaps a way of life. 

For him, hunting evil was, among other things, both all his life and his greatest curse. A burden he carried, and though at times he objected to it, he knew it was his path, the only way to redeem himself in his earthly life. 

A warning flashed in the back of his mind. Leaving the woman alone in the woods while she stood no chance against any enemy was cruel, he knew it all too well. He looked back at her, a sudden sting of sorrow piercing his heart. Yet he knew, it was greater purpose that drove him, and there were times when in order not to fail, the lesser wrong must be chosen, a sacrifice must be made. For all he knew, the hunter was well aware of the perils of a life such as that they both led, and took it into account, as did he. 

He turned around once more before he took to leave. The memory that troubled him was yet again present in his mind, yet too brief, too fleeting to know what it meant. Frowning, Van Helsing let out a small sigh. "Nothing personal," he whispered to himself, and vanished amid the waning night.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I would like to thank very, very much to everyone who's reviewed - especially to Wonda, who took so much time to write her review, apparently - must be the longest review I ever got on FFN. Wish every reviewer had so much to say, lol, but then again, I'd probably get ever fewer reviews than I do now ::snicker:: Aaand, to Artemis, who bothered to review both chapters at a time - thank you! ::bows:: 

Now, as far as the story goes… you might have found some things here that are not familiar to you from the movie. I will not explain this in detail here, since I believe a better and more interesting explanation of these things will come with the next chapter as a part of the story. Now, allow me only to give credit where credit is due - the Vampire clan Gangrel, as well as other proper names and the clan abilities used in this story are property of White Wolf Game Studio, and are part of the Vampire: The Masquerade RPG system. Good stuff =) 

As for the length… I know some of you are terrified by long chapters. I myself am not - honestly, what's the difference between one long and consistent chapter and two or three parts of one chapter posted separately ;) So I hope you had enough faith in my poor writing skills to read through this chapter, and yet once more, than you enjoyed it. 'Til the next time =) 


	4. The Hunter's Game

**IV. The Hunter's Game**

_Now I can only live with guilt, for deep down I know death would not wash it away. I can live, knowing that I have taken life. I can live, knowing that a day may come when my own life will be taken, and not one person will shed a tear for such doubtful loss. It is ironic, how much can a man bear, how much weight can one's heart carry throughout centuries, how much sorrow. And yet his strength will not fail him, save when fear is allowed to rule him. _

The seed of fear has found a breeding ground within me, calling me to step aside and look at myself with an open mind. How I wish I had not complied; I would have been better off not knowing, not seeing myself for what I was. That night I was loathe to pray, for I saw no chance for redemption; not in my words, nor in my tears. Not in anything I would ever do could I redeem myself, I knew, yet I entrusted myself to God. 

For who else would hear my cry, the cry of a wolf, a monster, a murderer, and not turn away? 

I remember being asked once, how does it feel to have no roots. To have no clue where you come from, not to know where you belong. I remember my answer was a blank look, a ring of sorrow clutching at my heart. I thought for a while how it would feel to be whole, to know who I am. How it would feel to let my memory go back in time and, with no sorrow of a void within me, recall those whose lives are past, yet never forgotten. 

Those who have ever loved someone and lost them are granted the comfort of looking forward to seeing them again, beyond the confines of this world. I am granted no such solace. If I look forward to leaving the sorrowful pit of earth, it is only for I know it will bring end to my struggle. And yet, I look to it no more than I do to a moment of peace; to the day when I can leave with no regret nor guilt that I have left something undone. 

Perhaps that day will come. Perhaps I will awaken in the morning and find myself unbound, untroubled. Perhaps I will close my eyes to pray one night and when I open them, I will see a whole new world where I must take lives no more, no matter the reason. 

Such a day, perchance it will come. But it is not this day; today, the sun rises far in the east, reminding me I must heed the call. 

The inn was quiet, but it was not a surprise - everything Van Helsing had been told of that land proved more true than he had wished it would. The silent streets were empty; were it not for carriages left for the night nearby households, it could have been taken for entirely abandoned. The silence, tightly embracing the small, rural town, had an uncanny feel to it. The hour was not yet late, but the people had apparently chosen not to risk their lives leaving their homes after dusk. 

It suited his purpose; after the unexpected encounter on his way there, merely few hours before, Van Helsing appreciated the tranquility of the place. Small, sleepy towns were less likely to be inhabited - or visited - by those who sought adventure and money in pursuing ones like him. 

Weariness began to tighten its grip on him; that, combined with hunger, urged Gabriel to seek a place to stay for the night. He had been trying to forget those needs as he had pushed on, hour after hour. Yet soon he remembered; even a man like himself, accustomed to the hardships of a life on the run, would at last reach the limits of his strength. 

The tavern door creaked miserably. A soft stream of light from the inside poured out on the street, onto his dark, tall figure, as Van Helsing halted in doorway. Having assured himself that his hat conveniently veiled his face in the shadows, he crossed the threshold. A pair of chestnut eyes examined the darkened room, barely lit in the corners by the slowly going out lamps. Small, faint flames flickered on the rock-strewn walls, casting eerie shadows that played lazily in the curves of stone. 

Upon his entrance few heads raised and turned towards the door. Had it not been for the fact that not drawing too much attention to himself was his main concern, Van Helsing wouldn't have kept from smirking. His appearance almost always guaranteed outcomes of two sorts. Some people feigned a blatant disregard for his presence, resigning themselves to watching him warily from safe distance. Others went straight in for an assault. The villagers attested to the former, as they resumed staring blankly into their mugs, when Van Helsing's heavy boots clacked against the wooden floor. 

Lowering his hat a little more as he approached, Gabriel regarded the bartender as the man rose slowly from his chair. The hunter's watchful eyes caught the slight movement of his hand under the counter, his breath heavy from tension, the intent look on his face turning it into a bloodshot stone. Slowly shaking his head, Van Helsing pointed the barrel beside the bar. If it didn't put the inn keeper at ease, at least it told him that there was no need for defense just yet. 

Two pairs of narrowed eyes watched him as he paced the room to the corner where a paraffin lamp died out a while ago. 

He watched them from his shadowed corner; two men, arguing in quiet voices between recurring fits of hiccups; an older farmer, falling into the arms of oblivion, brought to him by a sum of surely more than five drinks. His hat low over his eyes, Van Helsing wondered, as he looked at those men, whose lives revolved around the quests to that pub or another after long hours of hard work, if he would, one day, become like them. 

Thinking of the future seemed ridiculous as it only could. No longer did he see himself as an old man, no more hunting, nor being hunted, but at peace. He had once dreamed of it - of the end of the ruthless game, of no longer having to toy with life and death at all times. A dream that had left him no less bewildered, uneasy, as a nightmare would. In a mirror he saw himself; each day stained with new gray hair, a remarkable sign of his life, cast into the void halls of awaiting, before for his body would turn into ash. He saw his own reflection fading, becoming like a memory that in time grows far and faint. Until, at last, none save the subtle melody of rain remembered him for who he was; the only thing upon the earth that saw in him no evil. 

Now, the past unleashed sorrow, hidden deeply in the foundations of his heart. The past that could have been his haven had become his curse; an ally altered vicious had joined the ranks of his foes. In the end, there was but there and then to think of; hard as it proved to be, it left him with no choice. The past had kept him a slave to its will, the future rendered him fearful of things to come. Yet, surrender did no longer lead his thoughts when those were left unguarded; ironically, he had come to understand the call more fully than before. 

Soothing as the soft tapping of rain against the window was, the first droplets dancing down the glass pulled Gabriel out of his reverie. A deep breath lifted the heaviness from his chest, albeit a little. He had long since decided not to trouble himself needlessly with days to come; he knew that, no matter the path he chose, at the end of the last road he would meet his fate. What it would be was not to be revealed to him at will, the oath once sworn to himself held true while he could still draw breath. 

Something plunged heavily onto the ground outside with a loud noise; one voice, and another, soon joined by an angry unison of others, rose amidst the silence of the night. The commotion grew louder by the second. Van Helsing frowned, leaning sideways closer to the window, in vain hope to catch a glimpse of what was happening on the street. A deep, thumping sound reverberated between the walls of the room as something heavy slammed against the door, pushing it open. A few heads snapped up at the sound, the villagers raising from their tables in an instant to find out about the cause of the turmoil. 

Smoothly lifting himself up from his chair, Van Helsing paced towards the door, one step after another quiet not to draw attention. The villagers were long gone, standing outside in the pouring rain, watching as two men struggled in a drunken hand-to-hand combat. He passed quickly alongside the building's wall, his vigilant eyes fixed upon those fighting. He sensed no immediate danger, nor did he intend to get caught up in another's brawl; yet, his instincts told him to stay behind as long as he could. Slipping round the corner, where darkness provided him with enough shelter, he watched. 

"Don't move, or I'll pull the trigger." 

Van Helsing winced as a familiar voice hissed right behind him, cold steel of a pistol teasing the back of his head. He began to slowly lower his right hand to reach under his coat, but the movement was countered by a punch. He leaned backwards, insignificantly shifting his weight towards his stalker. "Enjoying your vengeance?" he whispered under his breath. 

Pressing the barrel a little harder, the hunter let out a quiet, forced laugh. Its sound, albeit subtle, mingled with the noises of the tumult round the corner, letting it pass unnoticed to all save the man. "Immensely. Just like you, I like playing games." 

Van Helsing sucked in a breath, slowly, finding himself unable to contain a small smile. "I am sorry I left you in the wild," he spoke in a tone saturated with genuine regret, although what he regretted more truly was not seeing the woman's face, as he brought the matter of the sudden cease of their duel to surface. He could sense her fury; near as she was, he almost felt the warmth of her quickened breath on the back of his neck. 

Her gun still pointed at his head, her finger resting firmly on the trigger, Leah paced around, and stood in front of him, face to face. Big droplets of rain glimmered on her timeworn coat, reddish strands of wet hair hung helplessly around her face. She shot an angry look straight into Gabriel's eyes. "You ought to be sorry you didn't leave the country when you had a chance." 

The skirmish, merely few feet away from their scarcely hidden place, grew louder. The street was now lit by lamps and torches, loud with raised voices of the bystanders and the falling rain. Van Helsing gazed quickly past the woman, regarding the crowd before he spoke quietly, "I have no intention to leave until my task is done." 

His small step back, further into the shadows, was countered with Leah's concurrent one forth, the barrel of her weapon pressing against the middle of his forehead. "Some say you're not what you appear to be," she told him. "They are wrong. Who is it this time, Van Helsing? An innocent villager? Or perhaps two?" Leah's voice grew louder with increasing rage, its pitch rising at the man's reaction - or lack thereof - to her accusing words. She mused briefly how cold one must be, how heartless, to kill like that man did, and don't fret about it. And yet, she found herself baffled when, try as she might, she found no cold in his chestnut eyes. Only a distant hint of sorrow she could not comprehend. 

Refusing not to keep an eye on the situation, even as his own life was at stake, Gabriel continued glancing at the growing number of men within his sight, for the noises had slowly begun to die out. Seemingly ignoring the fact that she still held him at her gun's length and ready to shoot, he looked at Leah again, his left brow slightly raised. Somehow, he knew that the bounty hunter would not pull the trigger. Had she intended to do so, she would have done that a long time ago. For all he knew, Leah was not one much into needless talk when situation called for deeds. "A certain prince I'm after," he answered at length, carefully applying more emphasis to the word 'prince' as he spoke. 

Van Helsing's words had caught the hunter off guard; he could tell by the bewildered look on her face, by the shade of recognition that passed across it. She lowered her arm with a frown, regarding him grimly. Before she had a chance to react, Leah saw him shift his weight in a fluid movement. He was staring intensely past her, his face set - like a cat, ready to pounce on its prey. 

Turning around in an instant, she understood. 

The fight had broken off, the gathering around the two duelists parted as, gradually, all faces turned to look at them. Voices murmured, the villagers observed the couple intensely, some pointing fingers, some preparing anything that could do for a weapon. A grotesque gang of roughly twenty men, all dripping water and trying to restrain their unrest. _Murderer_, they spoke to one another, _It's him_, others whispered. _Van Helsing_. 

Leah cast a quick look back at him just as Gabriel reached for his own weapons. Fragmented thoughts rushed with a flood through her mind, the man's last words reverberating loudly, as though he had spoken them repeatedly. Her sight shifted swiftly from the crowd to the man by her side. _Kill the prince, he said_, she thought to herself, heeding the impulse that told her what to do. Quickly shaking her head she stayed Van Helsing's hand, her eyes darting wildly from the crowd to the man. "Wait," she whispered, "Stay quiet." 

That instant of hesitation on Leah's part was obvious to him, as Gabriel locked eyes with the hunter. He frowned, yet upon seeing the villagers close in on them, ever more of them leaving their houses to join the crowd, already armed and ready to advance on him, he obeyed. 

"Well, well. Look at that." A tall, muscular man stepped forth, a thick stake in his hand, "Isn't that the one wanted for more murders than a man can count? Van Helsing himself." He eyed both hunters, then turned to the crowd with a smirk. "Looks like it's our lucky day," he said, slowly sauntering towards the couple. 

"Back off," Leah hissed through her gritted teeth, "The bounty for his head is mine." She took a small step backward, her back lightly touching Gabriel's chest. Caught up between two fires, both of which were likely to strike her at will, she was yet, ironically, more inclined to trust Van Helsing not to kill her - their chances of bringing death upon one another had so far been equal, yet neither had made the final choice to strike. The aroused crowd, that outnumbered them by at least twenty strong men, was her last choice when it came down to trust. 

Leah watched the man in front of her, about six feet tall, as he smirked, idly tapping his fingers against the rough surface of the long stake he held in his hands. Involuntarily she moved slightly backwards before she realized that she could not move far. Both glad and displeased at Van Helsing blocking her way out from behind, she stood firmly, straightening herself with her head high. Adrenaline shot through her veins as she felt him twitch a little; yet, much to her relief, Gabriel remained passive. 

"Says who?" meanwhile the other man questioned, his face twisted in a wry smile, "Isn't it the one who brings him to justice that gets the reward?" The crowd attested to that with quiet murmurs, moving forth ever so slowly, forcing both hunters into a trap against the wall of an old, single-floor house. 

"I intend to do so," the woman retorted angrily. She pulled Van Helsing by the coat, shifting her pistol in his direction as she motioned for him to step forth. She prayed in her mind that he would read her intentions properly, sending him a pleading look as he moved. 

"I wouldn't be so sure, if I were you," the other chuckled, accompanied by ferocious laughter of a couple of men who stood nearby him. Others, however, stopped their slow progress in their direction, resigning themselves to tentatively watching the incident. 

"Just try and stop me." In one swift movement Leah leaped forth, pointing her pistol at the man's forehead. The villagers fell silent, some stepping back at once, others lowering whatever they held in their hands. Few stepped forth to the leader's defense, yet he raised his hand and bade them halt. 

"Let her go," he laughed, "She won't get far anyway. They say the blood suckers are out on the hunt, and the night is still young. Who knows what might occur." As whispers arose, the man laughed viciously, crossing his arms on his chest. "Where will you go, Leah, with your prisoner? In fact, it's such a convenient coincidence. Let the vampires do the dirty job, I'll pick whatever is left of him--" he broke off, pointing his hand towards Van Helsing with a smirk, "After they're done." 

"You shall burn in hell, Ronan, long before it happens," Leah barked in an angry riposte, and gave Gabriel a light punch to urge him to move toward the horses. As Van Helsing did so, the hunter followed close behind him, covering their retreat with her gun still directed at the villagers. Mounting their steeds, they urged them hurriedly into a dash. 

Under the jet-black sky, the faintly lit streets appeared to be ever darker ways away from the crowd. The rapid beating of the hooves echoed far beyond the village as Van Helsing and Leah spun their horses with a soft cry. 

"Don't forget to leave a good trail, hunter girl. You're good at that!" 

Leah's head whipped around in an instant to Ronan's words, just in time to see him aim a gun in their direction. Had she been any nearer, she would have likely caught a glimpse of a menacing smirk twisting his lips as he pulled the trigger. 

Next thing she knew, Van Helsing swayed unsteadily in his saddle, with a quiet involuntary cry escaping his mouth. Taming the nearly frenzied horse she leaned towards him, attempting to grab the sleeve of his coat. The soaked leather was slippery under her equally wet hand, dripping heavily with rainwater. As soon as she caught a firm grasp, Leah pulled Gabriel back into balance. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed, much to her relief, that Van Helsing still gripped the reigns tightly. 

A quick, inquiring look she cast him was met with Gabriel's small nod of reassurance. "Move along," he mouthed to her, and gritted his teeth as they sped down the narrow road. 

"Don't thank me, Miss Connor!" The old hunter's cry reached the riders' ears, muffled by the roaring downpour. "You'll repay me in due time!" 

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

First of all, I should apologize. This was supposed to be longer, but I kind of lost it and am suffering from a major writer's block. I hope it wasn't boring as it is, though, I tried hard =) 

**m31:** Thank you, hon, for your extensive reviews. I'll be revising the first three chapters right after posting this, and am definitely going to use your suggestions. That's what happens when Rhea doesn't run her chapters by picky betas such as you before posting. Bad me =P 

**Damnedimmortal:** Since I enjoyed your story very much, I sure do hope you're still enjoying mine, even though it has evolved into more than just a character study piece. Thank you for your kind review, and I hope you'll let me know if you're still among my readers after this ;) 

**Horserider:** That's a hell of a compliment, thank you =) I'm trying to make it interesting and not to let things drag too long; I have a nasty tendency to go into descriptions too much and forget about action even if that's what I'm at. I'm trying to work on that, heh. Anyway, I'm glad you like it, and I hope you still do. 

**Sabecat:** You're most welcome, I review what I think is worth it ;) 

**Brainfear:** unfortunately, my writing skills tend to abandon me when I most need them =P Like when I want to write more but can't. Anyway, according to your wish, here's more ;) 


	5. Riddles in the Dark

**V. Riddles in the Dark**

The hooves beat against the ground at a furious pace, their rhythmic pounding disrupting the monotonous whispers of subsiding rain. The horses wove their way through the narrow forest paths, as if sensing their masters' growing urge to race. The conscience of a hunter kept one in place when others took to flee, yet this time, instincts won over hot blood, reason over daredevilry. Both Van Helsing and Leah had no choice but to accept it that the time for them to get even was yet to come. 

Leah slurred a curse under her breath, the intent look on her face betraying her fury. Even soaked and cold, she paid it no heed. She knew, by the determined look frozen on his face, that neither did Van Helsing. She glanced at him every so often as they rode; seeing the man handle himself well still had put her mind at ease. 

Chilled by more than the cold of the night and the pouring rain, Van Helsing resolved to ignore the dull pain in his injured arm. He looked down only once; all he could see was the torn sleeve of his coat. His mind forced to slowly clear, he tried to suppress the thoughts that rushed through his head at the speed of a waterfall, but to no avail. It struck him how fate repeated its courses, how it had led him to stray again and put his task aside. Recklessness had once been the trait that led him to many troubles along the way; now he knew its cause, and it proved too strong to defeat. 

He couldn't help but let his thoughts wander. Times like those, Van Helsing was more grateful than not for not remembering much of what had otherwise haunted him in dreams. The memories he possessed were at times enough to knock him out of focus. Perilous as it was, in the recent days he had learned that there wasn't much he could do about it. As it always was, he chose to wait it out. He often feared those memories would render him mad, one day. Past experience had taught him that it was not unlikely. Daunting nonetheless. 

The clack of the hooves seemed muffled now on the muddy ground. The sound seemed distant to him, as though he weren't there, as if he watched himself and the woman beside him from afar, behind the veil of rain. He barely took heed of the soft thumping sound, the rhythmic noise doubling strangely as they pushed on further into the woods. Gradually, as the clatter became more distinct, the intuition of a hunter forced Gabriel back into focus. 

A quick look in the bounty hunter's direction proved him right; Leah watched her surroundings warily, her eyes darting from one side to another. Van Helsing's eyes followed the course of the woman's sight. Hardly noticeable shadows moved among the trees, keeping up with the riders' pace in what seemed the easiest task imaginable. Only short ways away, two of them were now to be seen through the thick blanket of gloom, not far ahead. Van Helsing glanced back. Straining his eyes, he could see two others that followed closely behind. 

He could see them now; although still at a distance, their shadows drew nearer by the second, both the horse and the rider pushing forth like the whip of the devil urged them into dash. Out of the corner of his eye, Van Helsing noticed a rapid movement and his eyes darted between the approaching foe and his companion. In a split second, the hunter shifted in her saddle, a crossbow in her hand. She struggled to keep her balance as the first bolt she had launched hit nothing but air. 

Ahead of her, the rider adjusted his pace to her own, slowing down ever so little. Still turned around and aiming once more at the man behind, Leah took no heed of the danger in the front. Two more bolts sent flying missed their aim. The woman cursed under her breath. 

The path narrowed as they rode, making it hard to maneuver in sharp turns and among the sticking out branches of the ancient trees. Van Helsing's urging cry reached Leah's ears, but it dissolved in the dull thumping of six horses' hooves. 

Her crossbow creaked as one more bolt broke loose. The rider behind her dodged it at inhuman speed, avoiding the hit by what couldn't have been more than an inch. Leah's eyes shot wide in shock; only then, a hint of recognition sped up her breath. She clung to the horse's sides as tight as she could, her teeth clenched, eyes narrowed, muscles tense to the point of pain. A dire need to focus whispered behind her ear, _Take him down. Kill the Ghoul._ Leah shrugged as the familiarity of that voice sent shivers down her spine, more distracting than alleviating. She aimed with as much care as the wild ride allowed her. 

The rider advanced on her at great speed now, heading straight for a clash. In the last splinter of a second she let the bolt loose, mentally crossing herself and praying that this time it would reach its aim. 

Van Helsing turned with a start as a horse's loud cry reached his ears from behind, promptly followed by a hollow sound of its rider falling onto the ground. He glanced at the hunter; Leah turned in her saddle, face forth, sharply pulling the reins to avoid collision with another rider that crossed her path. A cry caught in his throat when, in the very same second, Gabriel lost his stability under the burden of a large man. Before he knew, both of them hit the ground. 

Leah noticed the rider ahead of her an instant too late; once within an arm's reach, the man leaned into her with a fluid movement and grabbed her reins. Pulled sharply out of her hands they were no more the source of balance. With nothing to hold to, Leah's body jerked backward. Reaching desperately for something to grasp before she fell, from her left eye's corner she saw the man leap up to a stand on his horse's back, preparing to fly down on his prey. Just as she grabbed hold of the rim of her own saddle, the Ghoul leapt and grabbed her by the coat as he fell. 

Falling down under his opponent's weight, Van Helsing had but a second to realize how strong the man really was. Blackness shaded his vision as they landed hard on the muddy ground, rolling over each other for what seemed like eternity. Struggling to release his arms from the man's iron hold, Gabriel groaned when at last they were forced into a halt by a large piece of rock. The impact sent the Ghoul flying and forced him to severe his grip on Van Helsing's arms. That split second was enough for the hunter to reach for one of his tojo blades. The weapon, sent spinning at a deadly speed, was ready when the Ghoul advanced once more. 

The sharp blade cut its way into the man's chest as easily as a knife went into butter. Face to face with his foe, Van Helsing could now see that the dying creature had once been a man. Yet, the blackened eyes and a fixed blank look on his twisted face told him he was human no more. 

Short ways away, the beating of the hooves remained even and loud. 

When at last the world around her stopped spinning, Leah found herself laying on her back on top of the man that had brought her down. Wincing in pain, she struggled to break free from his grasp; the Ghoul's strong arms clutched at her upper body, his abnormally even breath cold on the back of her neck. Nearly breathless, she gathered all strength she could spare and concentrated it on wriggling one of her arms out of the enemy's hold. She let out a groan through her gritted teeth as she threw herself left and right, in fading hope to feel the grip slacken if only a little. The instant she sensed the right moment when that could be attempted, she rapidly pulled her hand from the Ghoul's hold and grabbed a short knife strapped to her right thigh. 

In a swift turn she shifted her weight on top of him, pinning him to the ground. Her mind screamed at her that her only chance lay in speed; hesitating no more, she stabbed the Ghoul's chest time after time until she felt his body go stiff under her. The man's eyes opened wide; the vampire's blood that had kept him under a spell rushed up through his veins, up and to his eyes. Crimson streaks stained the creature's face, his mouth open in a soundless cry. Scowling, Leah withdrew the knife and issued the final strike. 

Struggling for breath, her body shuddered violently. The thought that she did not even know whether it was heaven she'd sent him to, or hell, left her mind uneasy. Ghouls might have been the unwilling servants of the vampires, yet servants of evil nonetheless. Biting her lower lip, Leah lifted her hand to cross herself, when a sudden silence prompted her to turn around. 

The sound of the spinning blades shattered the hollow silence of the night. Van Helsing scrambled to his feet. Turning around, he saw Leah issue the lethal strike upon her opponent. Their eyes met for a split second. The woman gave a quick nod, meant to tell him she was faring well. Gabriel nodded back. Just as he did so, he sensed movement short ways to his left and away. 

"Behind you!" Leah cried. Leaping to her feet, she drove her blade and rushed to where the last remaining Ghoul advanced on Van Helsing from behind a tree. 

His head whipped around just in time to catch a glimpse of a large man. His senses sharpened to an extreme acuteness, he saw his face - cold and expressionless - before the Ghoul spun around and smacked him with great strength. Ground slipped from under him, an instant later Gabriel was scrambling to his feet again a few meters away. 

The Ghoul sauntered forth, a long sword in his hand. He bared his teeth, letting out a sound resembling a vicious laugh. He took a swift turn, the bounty hunter's strike was no challenge for his blade. The strength he put into sweeping her blow aside sent Leah off her feet. The moment she hit the ground, the Ghoul paid her no more heed. Strolling towards him, the creature turned to Van Helsing with an eerie hiss. 

"What do you want?" the hunter asked, carefully studying the approaching creature. He could see it now; the air about the Ghoul dark with streaks of red. What had once been the whites of his eyes blended with his pupils black as midnight sky. 

"When lights go out, the Master's cry says hunters live to swiftly die." His voice more of a whisper, the caricature of a man seemed to mock his rival, in a failed attempt to daunt him. Taking one cat-like step after another at ever decreasing pace, the Ghoul had somehow created an illusion of the whole world around him slowing down at his will. 

Breaking the eye contact to shrug off the illusion, Van Helsing scowled at the cryptic words. "Just what I needed," he muttered to himself. As the distance between the two shrunk drastically, Gabriel stepped out of the creature's way. Wavering between the call to slay him and some morbid curiosity at the nature of the man, he asked, "Who are you?" 

His question was met by a laugh. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel caught a glimpse of Leah struggling back to her feet. Sinking to her knees, the hunter rubbed the back of her head with a quiet groan. 

Gazing intently into his face, the Ghoul prodded Van Helsing to return his stare. His steps unwavering, he made nearly no sound at all. "The past you fear, the future's lore. Your fortune seals by rocky shore." 

Frowning at the riddle, Gabriel narrowed his eyes and set them back upon the Ghoul's face, even though he noticed that merely looking at him, into those black eyes that seemed unseeing, had made him grow weary. 

"How do you know me?" he uttered through his gritted teeth. The memory of the last time - still recent, as the full moon blossomed only once on the jet black sky since that day - when he had asked alike question flashed fresh and clear in the back of his mind. 

Suddenly, the creature's body jerked and landed heavily on the ground. Van Helsing shrugged off the remnants of the charm and lunged in the Ghoul's direction as he realized what had come to pass. 

A fraction of a second and one swift swing of sword later, Leah's blade glimmered in the faint light of the moon that filtered through the trees. She came down on the creature with a deadly strike, slashing him across the chest. Her breath came in gasps as she staggered on her feet; her eyes fixed upon the dying Ghoul. Leah spat in disgust, and wiped her face with the back of her hand. 

The words of the vampire servant's riddle still clear in his ears, Gabriel sank onto the ground by the creature's side. As the Ghoul lay, wheezing, gasping for breath, he could see his features turning soft like those of any man, his eyes filled with blood. The hunter tried hard not to think that the rider's message carried a deeper meaning; had it carried one or not was now irrelevant as the man had come to meet his end. 

With his last breath, the beast fled from the man's tormented corpse, at last leaving him at peace. Convulsion shuddered the wretched form twice under Van Helsing's hands; what was once a peasant grew quiet and still. 

Only Leah's heavy breath disturbed the silence as Gabriel crossed himself over the man that died, perhaps too early, by the hunter's hand. He felt no remorse; only anger, for yet another obstacle revealed itself unexpectedly, keeping him from his assignment. He hadn't even noticed when the rain began to soak all around him once more. 

Van Helsing winced as he turned from the blood-soaked corpse. His sight fell on the woman; her form appeared smaller to him than it was. Leaning against a tree trunk, broken in half by a strike of thunder, Leah bowed her head and waited until exhaustion severed its grip on her. Several deep breaths later, she leaned over a dead rider's body, contemplating something with a tilt of her head. 

"I haven't seen a Ghoul around here in over twenty years," she spoke in quiet voice with a deep frown. 

Van Helsing rose slowly, taking in the aftermath of their fight. "Your friend has wicked allies," he said, searching the ground for his hat. He chose not to let her know the impact the man's words had on him, and hoped she never noticed. 

Leah's head snapped up at the remark. Slightly surprised by his choice of words, and not yet sure whether or not such choice was intentional on his part, she pulled herself from the tree and paced in his direction. She wondered what had caused the hunter to put on such a front; yet knowing the nature of his life, not unlike her own, she managed to abstain her distress. Careful not to trip over a dead Ghoul's body, she kicked it aside and halted in front of the man. 

Gabriel countered her insolent act with an arched eyebrow, but said nothing as Leah stood before him, staring at him with a questioning look written in her features. 

When the implication written in his judging tone became obvious to her, Leah found it hard to disregard the anger welling up in her. "They weren't here by chance, but not by his doing either," she spoke, shaking her head. Ronan. It must have been him Van Helsing had called her friend, though the impious old hunter was farthest from being anyone's friend as he could be. "Ronan may be a prick, but he's a bounty hunter. Not a warlock, or a vampire!" The pitch of her voice rose proportionally to her anger, yet as soon as she looked down, it decreased in an instant. At her feet, the corpse was a reminder of the poor man's ill fate. His death, inevitable as it was, was a sad way for a life to end. 

"Only those can do such things to men." Leah swallowed down the bile that rose to her throat before she continued, her voice slightly bitter. "It wasn't Ronan. That old fool is the top icon of sheer futility, but he wouldn't ally himself with something as evil." 

Perhaps there was excuse in her words, perhaps there wasn't; Van Helsing shrugged off his doubt, refusing momentarily to try and see all ends. "You're defending him for a reason!" he cried. 

"For God's sake, Van Helsing!" Leah shook her head in what at first had been disbelief, now turned into pure frustration. "I'm not defending him! Can't you take a simple explanation just for what it is?" 

Almost involuntarily, Gabriel motioned his left hand towards the village, seconds too late realizing that it caused him pain. The only sign of it was a wild look sent the bounty hunter's way. "Well, then why isn't he following us?" he questioned angrily. His voice vibrated unnaturally as he spoke; something that had yet to begin to trouble him. To his own surprise, he yet found himself more worried by this than by his sheer lack of guilt for the deaths of the peasants. _Monster_, a voice whispered at the back of his mind. _Murderer_. 

Her anger subsiding slowly, Leah let out a small sigh. "Because he's never gone about business the fair way. If I know Ronan, which I do, he won't appear until I've taken you to Dublin." Arching an eyebrow, she pointed the torn leather of Gabriel's sleeve. "Besides," she added, "I believe he did it on purpose." 

Van Helsing's brow furred, his eyes opening wide in what appeared to be mild surprise; in fact, try as he might, in her reasoning he could find no logic. "You mean he missed deliberately?" he voiced his doubt, scowling inwardly at the detail that the old hunter had not completely missed his aim. 

Sighing, Leah turned from him and took a few tentative steps away. She squatted, her back turned on Gabriel as she gathered her thoughts. Crossing her arms on her chest, she shrugged off the cold and discomfort, and said, "He's done that before. He thinks it will be easier for me to escort you if you can't defend yourself as well as while unharmed." 

Van Helsing's eyebrows shot up. "Favors among hunters are news to me," he said. 

Leah couldn't help but roll her eyes at those words. "Favors?" She let out a short, bitter laugh. "That man will sooner die than do me a favor, save when out of ill will. His favors are only to serve himself. If I take you to Dublin, it will be easier for him to take over and claim the reward. That's an old trick. To ones like Ronan honor has no value." 

Somehow, but a part of what she said had grabbed his attention. Perhaps it was the sudden faltering in her voice, perhaps the look on her face from which anger was long gone. "If?" Gabriel asked, his eyes fixed on the hunter's hunched form. 

She felt his eyes on her back, and turned around hesitantly. Had the hint of delay shown in her eyes as she returned his stare, Leah hoped Van Helsing hadn't noticed. "That depends," she said carefully. 

Gabriel cocked his head. "On what?" 

"On whether what you told me about your assignment… task… whatever it is you've come here to do… is true." 

_Trust, more often that not, offers profit incomparable to loss_, Gabriel mused. He said only, "You have but my word for it." 

"How can I trust you?" 

If his eyes remained serious, they were the only part of him that did. A smirk painted his features, slightly blurring the look of worry that furred his brow and drew the corners of his lips ever down. "You can't," he said. 

Slowly shaking her head, the woman at last resolved to stop suppressing a smile. "That helps," she chuckled, irony juicy in her voice, but none in the way she looked at the weatherworn man. She studied him for a while; dripping water, he looked feeble and yet still strong. "Ronan's going to make such a tale out of this." She wrinkled her nose, grotesquely imitating the man's posture and the low timbre of his voice, "I shot the great Van Helsing," she bellowed, dissolving into choking laughter. "Now he's going to have something new to top his list of achievements." 

Gabriel gave a half-hearted smirk, sucking in a quick breath as a strain of muscles reminded him of his wounds. "Leah Connor isn't exactly bulletproof either, now is she?" 

"I have yet to check that." The woman looked up at him with a wry smile as Van Helsing extended his arm to help her off the ground. "Come on. You're asking to be a vampire's fare, running around at night bleeding like this." 

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I decided that some minor details in this story will be changed; I'll list the changes in the next chapter, so that no one who's still with me gets confused. Changes aren't big, but rather important, so don't imagine my head on your silver platter just yet - they're all for the better. ;) 

Yes. "Riddles in the Dark" is a very obvious LotR reference. I use those, though not extensively. There's one more reference to another movie in this chapter; if you catch it, you score 10 brownie points ;) 

Before my response to reviews, I'd like to write a little thank you to my betas: **Andy**, **Wonda**, **Tasar** and **Shan**. I love you guys. You rock. And thanks to **Ith** for helping me with the favors line ;) 

**m31:** Honey, your reviews are honestly doing wonders, I swear they do =) A big, big thank you for your help with previous chapters as well as with this one. I hope you're enjoying it still. 

**Tigris T Draconis:** You know, you're one of very few people who actually paid attention to the dynamics between Gabriel and Leah. In this chapter, there's some more of it - I hope it shows how their relations are changing. And, of course, thank you for your kind review =) Little angst in this one, more action, but fear not - there's more than action to this fic =) 

**LadyKayoss, Jade Riddle, Lady Lestat:** Thank you for your reviews =) I'm glad you're enjoying my work. 

**SSJ-Alhazred:** Well, well, well, Al my dear, I think I have to mark this date red in my calendar - you actually logged in AND wrote me a review. Gods that must mean something. Probably that I'm a hell of a pest ::snicker:: Thank you =) 

**Verona Dracula:** Another long chapter for you [and others =)] Originally, it was twice as long - but since my betas said it was better to break it up, so I did. This means you can probably expect an update sooner this time ;) 

**ElvenPirate41:** You rock. That's pretty much all I have to say. You and your writing both.

* * *


	6. The Memoir Room

**VI. The Memoir Room**

The bodies were heavy. Leah shrugged off the nauseating sensation that churned her stomach. The sight of the dead had always been far from pleasant. Yet those, killed as the spawn of the devil, were now to be carried away as human beings of flesh and blood, and left to slowly rot. 

It was her who pointed out that leaving the bloody corpses on the road would make things worse than they already were. Nothing had gone as planned. The presence of another bounty hunter had complicated everything. In a sleepy village, where the most exciting attraction of the twenty-four hour cycle of work and rest was an evening out in the only pub in thirty kilometers radius, the word of an event of such unusual nature as Van Helsing's arrival spread fast enough as it was. Having to deal with angry peasants who sought vengeance, a vent for their anger that had accumulated over time, was the very last thing Leah wished for that night. 

The bodies grew stiff so quickly that it was hard to lift them from the ground. They seemed heavier, too; yet Leah suspected that it was her own body that grew weaker after the strenuous fight. Van Helsing didn't oppose when, sparing him the needless banter, Leah began removing the signs of their unexpected encounter, prodding him to help her with a wave of her hand. 

They carried the four bodies off the main road, deeper into the woods where few ever wandered, save by chance. That the men used to live in the village, before prince Liam subordinated them to his will, was more an assumption than knowledge on Leah's part. It was long since she had last looked upon those lands, the lands of her young years. The passing of time had brought a change to it as it had to its people. The once familiar faces dissolved and blurred in her memory. She no longer remembered any of their names. 

That the weavers of fate had led them to the vampire's gates against their will, leaving them no choice but to obey him, was out of any question. Once you encountered one of the Undead, you could make no mistake about it ever again in your life - if you managed to escape with it. Looking back in time, Leah still remembered the shadow of threat they had cast upon the simple people's homes, their children, their lives. She remembered waking up to the sound of her own heartbeat, to her breath chased away by a sudden fear, when the night echoed with the batting of wings just outside the door. In the morning, they would race to the village to find out which of their friends would join the army of the dead without a burial or a proper gravestone. 

Sometimes they would find bodies. Some were twisted and bloody and torn apart beyond recognition. Leah could almost smell the faint scent of blood in the air every time she returned to that land that was her home. Other bodies bore no marks of the cause of their demise. Both would be burned with no exceptions, as though to vanquish the demons within them, on the hill just outside the village. The children would be forbidden to wander there at all times; the elders too avoided that area at all costs. 

Many days after their burial the smell of burnt flesh would linger in the air, spreading over the village as if heedless of the direction of the wind. Some said that a curse had been cast upon the sleepy town, that the Devil himself had been unleashed to wreak havoc upon its people for their terrible sins as yet unknown. 

Yet one day, during the fourteenth year of terror, suddenly as it had begun it had ended - with only occasional cases of disappearance from then on. Those who had not left the land returned to their semi-normal lives. Despite the ever fresh memories of what had come to pass, for a time they believed it was over. 

Far in the village, the church tower bell rang twelve strokes of midnight when the last body disappeared under a thick coat of leaves. 

Idly dusting off his coat, Gabriel let out a soundless sigh. She puzzled him; a huntress, seemingly dead-set on her assignment the same way he was focused on his, and yet not quite. She was no threat to him; at least not when, despite the growing soreness of his wounds and the fatigue that had gripped both his body and mind, he was prepared and watchful of her every move. She must have known he could part with her at will, as he had in the past; and yet he hadn't - curiosity claimed the better of him as Gabriel decided to let this game continue for a little longer. Her help had been surprising, yet somehow not unexpected. He found himself wanting to know the reasons behind such a sudden change. 

He watched Leah as she sat heavily on the ground. Still seemingly heedless of him, she examined the damage the Ghoul had wreaked upon her. If this was a game, Van Helsing had chosen to see where it would lead. 

The horses whinnied from afar, reminding the hunters that it was time to go. It would take bad luck for the peasants to learn of their pursuers' fates any time soon, unless the hunters spoke of it. What they had not done to remove the signs of the fight, the rain would do in their stead before the first light of the day. 

Half-expecting her to leap to her feet with a gun in her hand, Van Helsing observed Leah out of the corner of his eye as he passed by her and vanished amongst the trees. The sound of soft steps behind him soon told him that Leah had followed, yet without needless haste. He turned back only once before they reached the road where their horses were, nearly causing the huntress to run into him as he came into a sudden halt. 

He met her eyes, shining faintly with half-hearted amusement as she looked up at the taller man. He noticed how this time she took a step back, avoiding physical contact, yet she held up his gaze for just long enough to grow to be unable to resist a small smile. Gabriel stepped aside with a smirk, making way for her to pass by and continue in front of him. 

Her brow furrowed slightly at him putting on such a front; surprised, Leah hesitantly obeyed the unspoken request. She slowly reached to her side where her gun was, only in the last instant deciding not to pull it. The idea of Van Helsing having an opportunity to strike her from behind had not yet been hushed in her mind, when Leah jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, faintly saturated with irony. 

"Now that's a sign of trust." 

"Is it, now," she slurred half-heartedly, yet at once she felt the rush of blood in her veins. She could tell there was a smirk on his face without looking back. She could tell the look on his face just by the tone of his voice. That strange, sudden certainty of what that man would say or do startled her for an instant. 

Van Helsing watched her tense as she kept moving along, her steps now quickening ever so slightly. If she wished for a game, he would make sure that she got it. "I could stab you in the back," he said. 

"You couldn't." Partly against her will, partly at its bidding, Leah's pace quickened even more, as if trying to keep up with her heartbeat. 

Gabriel didn't linger far behind. "What makes you so sure?" he asked. 

The open space of the road appeared now both welcome and most convenient. Leah halted in half-step and took a rapid turn to face the man. "If I'm wrong, prove it," she said, watching him with a challenging look. 

Van Helsing cocked his head. "Perhaps not today." 

Leah shook her head with a sigh, her eyebrows climbing into her hairline. She looked at him carefully; Van Helsing was there in front of her, the very same man she remembered from the past: weatherworn and weary, he still somehow kept his dignity. She could tell by his posture, bent only so slightly, that the toil of the fight had left its mark on him as it had on her. Yet even now, he could fight her and win as easily as at any other time. What games _he_ was playing with her, she didn't know; yet she was more than sure that there was more to that man than met the eye. Now she hoped it was only a matter of time before she could at last find out what it was that really caused him to play. 

The Ghouls' mounts had fled as their masters died; only now, Van Helsing realized how strangely the beasts had acted while they fought the possessed men. He could only suspect that the creatures had somehow been charmed as had been the men; a new form of sorcery he had not seen before. 

They found their own horses not far away from the battleground. Still bewildered and at great unease, after a few failed attempts to calm them down, the beasts allowed the hunters to resume the travel. 

Gabriel didn't look back as they urged their horses forth. He didn't find it particularly surprising that Leah continued heading South. Although briefly, he had considered turning away; yet the dull pain in his arm and the growing weariness had convinced him otherwise. As they distanced from the bloodshed site, Van Helsing could swear that a small voice behind him whispered slowly the word that was now like his given name, engraved forever in his mind. _Murderer. You have come, and you have killed. Now go… _

He could not look at those whose lives he had taken and see nothing but evil. At times they would return to him in dreams; the nightmarish visions of blood and fear, as his were the hands that mercilessly cut the lines of their lives. Sometimes their faces were blurred, other times he saw them sharp and clear. Behind the bloodshot masks there were still the men and women they once were. Few of them had hearts no more, few had rid themselves completely of their human traits. The evil that drove them fled as they passed away, returning to them the aura of hope that it had stolen. Only now, in those dreams he could see that upon their deaths, some shone with blues of despair. Others, with reds of wrath. Very few remained dark and grim. 

Sometimes those nightmares were a blessing, despite their cruelty; deep down, Gabriel hoped that even dying evil had not damned those men to eternal burning in the fires of Hell. Sometimes the irony of the outcomes of his tasks angered him. Perhaps the world was rid of another creature of darkness as it died on his hands, yet the existence of evil itself had not at all been vanquished. Since his return from Transylvania, Van Helsing had come to believe that evil would only lurk in the dark corners of the world, patiently awaiting an opportunity to strike once more. 

The moon had hidden its silver face behind the heavy clouds completely by the time the riders reached their destination. By the edge of the forest, where the land changed into wide, open plains, Van Helsing noticed dark contours of a house, drawn with shadows against the wall of trees. His vigilance at its peak, he studied the landscape with care for any signs of movement. In a tight embrace of gloom, the wind and the heavy downpour seemed to be the only reasons for the trees and the tall grass to swing and bend at an uneven pace. 

If anyone lived in that lonesome house, embraced by long, black shadows of the forest at its back, it must have been a long time ago. The thick darkness did not help his study; what Gabriel could make out in the gloom behind the surrounding curtain of rain, was that the path leading to the house had long since vanished under the overgrown grass. The only sign of it ever being there were the big stones, lining the way up a small mound. 

At night, a less vigilant passer-by could even miss the existence of the house completely. It was not much more visible than an old shed short ways away and behind; both buildings looked like great shadows against the trees. Brought down by the passing of time and the lack of human attention, the shed must have collapsed long ago. The house had yet to reach that same stage of decay, although it must have been long since its better times. With each blow of the wind, a shutter in one of the two front windows creaked sorrowfully. 

Having slowed down significantly as they rode across the small plain, Leah briefly glanced back at Gabriel. Still in the saddle, she joined him in the watching out for any signs of unwelcome presence of any potential pursuers who valued their lives a bit too little to stay in the safety of the village. None seemed to have wandered that way; looking around once more, Leah dismounted her steed. 

She did not look back again, as Van Helsing had subconsciously expected. Slowly, she paced towards the house. Gabriel frowned. 

The huntress climbed the three stone stairs that led to the door. There she stopped and slowly reached up her hand. Running her fingers down the wooden frame, she turned around to her companion. 

A little hesitantly, Van Helsing jumped onto the ground, regretting it immediately as he felt as sharp pain tear through him. Unstrapping his sack from the saddle, he swung it over his shoulder on the uninjured side, and took a few tentative steps forth. "What is this place?" he asked loudly, for otherwise his voice would have been lost in the rain. 

Leah's face brightened a little. "My old house. I used to live here, a long time ago. Before this land became the graveyard it is today." The small smile on her lips faded with those words. Her hand dropped loosely to her side. She looked at Van Helsing with an arched eyebrow; his apparent indecision brought a rather wry smile back to her face. "You're not going to stand in the rain all night, are you?" 

The perspective of spending the night under a roof instead of the cold outside was appealing enough. Or was it? "I have considered it," Gabriel muttered to himself, quite assured that the woman had heard none of his words. "That depends on what the inside has got to offer," he added, this time his voice loud enough to breathe through the noise of the storm. 

"Besides shelter from rain?" Leah shrugged her shoulders and threw back her head. "I wonder about the same thing. Let's go and find out, shall we?" 

As she motioned her hand towards the door, Van Helsing joined her up the stairs. Clearing his throat, he glanced at her with a smirk. "Ladies first." 

Leah shook her head and pulled open the old door. 

The wood smelt of dampness and decay. The long untouched hinges moaned in a loud objection to disturbing the peace of the house. The lock no longer protected the inside from unwelcome eyes. Between the doorframes, the spider nets spread an invisible trap. Soft threads brushed lightly against Leah's face as she crossed the threshold, placing one careful step after another. 

If anything unwanted lurked in the darkness inside, it would already be alarmed and aware of the presence of the two hunters. Another step sent a hollow noise echoing in the walls. Pieces of shattered glass cracked under Leah's boots, prompting the huntress into a rapid halt. She could hear Van Helsing's steady breath just behind her ear, close, too close for comfort. Holding her own, Leah reached out her hand. To the left of the door, ever since she remembered, a shelf on the wall contained exactly what she needed. 

At her back, Van Helsing countered her a little too rapid movement with one of his own. Taking a small step back, he fixed his eyes on the woman's hands, momentarily prepared for defense. He let out a long, soundless breath as Leah turned around. The crunch of the crushed glass mingled with the tapping of the rain against the roof as she moved, just to die out the instant she fell motionless again. In her hand she held a thick candle. 

Her eyes darting from one corner to another, carefully tracing the faint shadows of the place that was barely familiar anymore, Leah took a few more steps inside. She wavered a little, blinking her eyes as she lit the candle. 

- - -

The candle slowly caught on fire, revealing the contours of furniture in the room. The tall figures of the two hunters cast long shadows on the walls and the floor. Taught the hard lesson on trust by experience and life, as though in a silent agreement they slowly turned around, backs to one another, observing the dimly lit room for any signs of unwanted presence. 

To his left, Gabriel noticed three cots, big enough only for a child, placed one next to another. No sheets lay on them save a blanket, cast carelessly in the legs of the makeshift bed. By the door, one of the two windows was broken. Only now, Gabriel could see that the pieces of shattered glass had scattered far; countless tiny bits glimmered across the floor and the cupboard just below the windowsill. 

Behind him, Leah sighed quietly at the sight of the damage. With the glass cracking under her feet, it didn't take his sharpened senses and a trained ear of a hunter to know that she paced the room towards the corner to his right. Van Helsing turned around. 

Pushed by a sudden blow of wind, the open shutter knocked lightly against the frame, forced into uncontrolled, irregular swing. Outside, the rain still poured down with no lesser intensity than it had upon their arrival. The quiet creak of the wood seemed enchanting in its eerie grouse. 

The rain drummed its haunting melody against the roof. Its big droplets sat heavily on the sharp remnants of glass that remained in the frame, just to quickly trace their way down moments later. Suddenly, Gabriel found himself staring at their silent performance, heedless of all else. The soft glimmering had somehow reminded him of tears, mingled with rain on Anna's face. He shrugged involuntarily, unwilling to give in to that memory. Determined to rid himself of such images, he blinked quickly; of all bad times, memories would always choose the worst for their return. 

Three more flames flickered shyly on a low cabinet in the corner where Leah had been just a while ago; yet the bounty hunter was no longer there. Gabriel turned to look at the new source of light; slowly, as the flames shot up, their brightness revealed the few possessions that had not yet been stolen or damaged in the house. On a wooden shelf sat a frame, one that must have been the effect of long hours of someone's handwork; tiny curls and rows of arching leaves rounded into delicately beveled edges, harboring an old pencil drawing. Gabriel paced the room and stood in front of it. The picture was that of the house; seven people stood and sat at its front: three adults, four children. 

Looking at it, suddenly Gabriel felt as though he had treaded on something sacred, forbidden. A long time ago, he would have given everything to know if he too had once had a family, a home. Now, he had convinced himself that not remembering was his choice, that it made things easier. A part of him always knew that a day would come when he would fool himself no more. He knew that, one day, an inner call would push him to set out again, in search of the scattered pieces of himself he wanted to put together at any cost. 

Leah's return pulled Van Helsing out of his reverie. The woman walked inside, carrying a bucket of water and placed it on the floor. She looked up, shaking rainwater off her coat. Gabriel realized that he must have been staring at the old drawing longer than he had thought. Lowering his sight, he cleared his throat and waved his hand towards the shelf. 

"Who's that?" he asked. The sound of his voice seemed unnatural to him, as though he had not heard it in a long time. He saw Leah smile as she straightened herself and stepped forth to stand by his side. 

"My family." She crossed her arms under her breasts. "This house, when it still remembered better times. Pieces of my past, if you will." She sighed quietly, but the small smile on her lips had not faded. She sent Gabriel a warm look, something he had all but expected. "One of those things that remind you of who you are." 

Van Helsing nodded absently as Leah paced away and knelt in front of the fireplace. Slowly his eyes unfocused; his thoughts wandered, the woman's words echoing in his mind. Even as he no longer saw it, the memory of the picture still lingered clear in his memory. The image of Leah's face, her smile as she spoke of it; it all was so strangely haunting. He could only guess what she felt, and he knew that it would take a miracle for him to ever know or share that feeling. "Who am I, then, if I have no memory of such things?" he asked quietly the inner voice in his mind that told him once more that a man without a past was a lesser man. 

In that moment, having realized that his thoughts had found their way out in the form of words spoken quietly - perhaps not quietly enough - he turned to the woman. 

Leah returned the stare. As though the line of time had suddenly got cut, her hands rested lightly on a piece of wood, halted briefly halfway to where it would soon burn to ash. He tried to read her face, but the look he met was blank and told him nothing at all. He could only hope that she had not heard any of those words that had slipped carelessly past his lips. 

A second, perhaps two had passed, yet to him it seemed like eternity before Leah resumed her work and looked away from his face. He found it hard to move, yet at last his eyes darted from the picture, and Gabriel walked away from the shelf. "The house of such a family shouldn't be abandoned," he said at length, sitting on a chair at the table short ways away from the huntress. He couldn't help but cast a brief glance behind; something in the drops of rain glimmering on the broken glass was still strangely inviting. 

Leah didn't look at him as she spoke, unhurriedly kindling the fire. "It used to be different. When my parents lived. After they died, my brothers moved up north. Traded backwoods for streetlights." She winced slightly as she rose, betraying that she too had had a long day. "I've kept this place for occasions such as this." 

Gabriel smirked. "You must often provide accommodation for Europe's most wanted." 

Leah arched an eyebrow but sent him a wry smile. "Perhaps I should consider it." She took off her coat and threw it on the only other chair in the room. 

Now he could see she traveled fully armed; one by one, three daggers, a pistol and finally her blade found their way to the tabletop. Gabriel's eyes wandered back to the picture on the shelf, almost against his will. A family. Would he ever come to learn anything about his own? He sucked in a breath as pain pulled him out of his eerie trance. Unpleasant as it was, this time he was thankful for it. "You didn't leave along with them?" he asked. 

"No." Leah shook her head. "Let's say they've never grown to appreciate my profession." 

Leaning back in his chair, Van Helsing sent her an amused look. "I can believe that," he said. 

The wind darted inside, sweeping around the corners. Despite the fire that licked merrily at the wood in the fireplace, both hunters shivered and cast rather displeased looks towards the broken window. 

Van Helsing got to his feet, wincing soundlessly as he did so. He was accustomed to pain, yet combined with weariness and cold, it began to be a little bothersome. He caught Leah staring at him as she contemplated something with a tilt of her head. She studied him for a short moment, then looked past him and back at his face. 

"I can't do much about the cold, but I can make sure you don't bleed to death," she said lightly as she pointed to the torn sleeve of Gabriel's coat. 

The man's brow shot up. "And why would you do that?" Leaning against the wall, he kept his eyes fixed firmly on hers. "You know, the posters say 'Wanted dead or alive.'" 

Leah let out a quiet laugh. "You're worth a fortune alive." She looked at him critically with hardly feigned seriousness that didn't reach her eyes. "Your body's worth a half of it. Public executions in Dublin still gather quite a crowd." 

The look of sheer irony painted Gabriel's face. "I bet they do," he said. 

With a wave of her hand, the huntress pointed towards the bed to Gabriel's right. Hesitating a little, Van Helsing accepted the offer and took off his coat before he sat down. 

The water had boiled by the time Leah gathered all clean cloth she could find and returned to him. 

"You've been after me for six years," Gabriel said thoughtfully upon her return, shooting a brief glance at Leah's weapons on the table as he spoke. 

"And you've been always a step ahead of me." She grimaced and, seeing what had drawn his attention, she tensed a little, yet remained calm. 

Van Helsing continued. "Then why didn't you use one of those when you found me sleeping?" 

Leah paced towards the table and lifted her blade; still stained with the blood of the Ghoul, it looked even older than it was. "I stay true to tradition," she said, slowly wiping the blade on a piece of cloth. 

Gabriel watched her with a questioning look. "You didn't in Dublin," he said. Smiling wryly upon seeing the look on Leah's face, he let his memory travel back to their last meeting, when she had nearly succeeded in catching him. Afterwards he had wondered often what had stopped her from pursuing him that night. Yet even now, that he was given a chance to ask, he chose not to take it. He had yet to decide whether or not he still held a grudge. 

Her eyes narrowed, Leah sat down next to him. Had she known before what she knew now, she mused, things would have gone differently for both of them. "Let's call it an exception from a general rule," she spoke at last. "Besides, we both know you saw me coming. Only I wonder, what took you so long to trick me this time." She watched him close, a faint hint of a smile playing in the corners of her lips as Gabriel took off the sweater he was wearing. 

Once again, he found himself thankful that the wound from the werewolf's bite had healed without a scar. "Three years is enough time to forget the traits of your enemy," he said. 

With a fluid movement, Leah slipped behind him and slowly tugged his shirt off his shoulders. "Four," she whispered quietly. The sleeve of his shirt was torn and stained with crimson blood. The wound on his left arm was but a scratch; Leah scorned inwardly at Ronan's aiming skills. She shifted her weight, and her hair brushed lightly against his skin. She studied his bare chest; among some apparently old scars, Van Helsing had several bruises and cuts from the fight with the Ghouls. Almost involuntarily, Leah pulled closer to his bare back as Gabriel freed his arms from the bonds of the cloth. "It was four years ago," she said softly against his hair. 

Reluctantly pulling away, she reached out for a piece of white cloth and dipped it in the hot water. Squeezing it half-dry, she removed the strands of wet hair from Gabriel's face and tucked them behind his ear. "If it's true what they say about you, I wonder," she spoke as she moved closer again and leaned slightly into him. "Why didn't you kill me when you had a chance?" 

Van Helsing winced as the damp cloth touched his sore skin. "For so much of a nuisance, you are not evil," he slurred through his gritted teeth. 

Leah's hand paused as the huntress met his eyes in a long stare. She absently slid a gentle finger down his back. Suddenly she came to understand that the furious rhythm that had chased away her breath was her heart pounding in her chest at the sight of small pearls of sweat dancing on his face, in spite of the cold. She didn't feel it either; not when her hand strayed idly up his back, her fingertips studied delicately the skin of his neck. 

She pondered his words; he found in her no evil, not even though she had spent six years trying to bring him down. Long gone were the days when she had believed that hunting him would rid the world of evil; the righteous purpose had long since been traded for pursuing him out of curiosity and pride. And there he was now, right in front of her, and he looked at her as though he could see right through her. Those dark eyes were so calm; the eyes of a man who had crossed the path of her life bore no sign of malice. 

"I am many things, but evil is not one of them," she said at length, her eyes never leaving his. "The question is, are _you_?" 

Gabriel held up her gaze. "Would you believe me if I said that I'm not evil? Would you believe if I told you that my job is to vanquish evil?" 

Leah swallowed audibly, determined not to look away. The mask of indifference had broken, she knew. Did that man know it, too? Looking so intently into her face, could he read the confusion behind the gray eyes? 

The cloth fell on the bed and her hand slid down Gabriel's back. He could feel her warm breath on his skin, she was close, so close that her scent danced all around him. He could feel her tremble slightly and in her eyes he saw a sudden flash of recognition, familiarity that had bothered him too since the previous night. Familiarity that reached beyond their knowledge of one another, that had no right to be. As though it had happened before, as if he had already known how it felt to shiver under her gentle touch. 

All of a sudden she moved away, bringing him abruptly back to the present. "I'd either believe it, or not," she said quickly. "Does it matter? Pick one." 

Bewildered at that sudden change of front, Gabriel frowned. "Why ask, if there is no answer you can believe?" 

Leah feigned a smile and, rising from the bed, she looked away. "It's a habit." 

She saw him shake his head slightly at her words, and a strange fear gnawed at her from the inside. Yet whether Van Helsing intended to retort to that or not was irrelevant. An instant later, she left him in haste, never looking back. 

A small storage room at the back of the house was the only other place still intact enough; in the rest of the house, the long unattended roof was leaking and everything had slowly begun to rot. Leah closed the door behind her and sank onto the ground. She closer her eyes. In herself she found no comprehension at all; an image lingered in her mind of Van Helsing's face, and it was not the tired face with dark smudges under his eyes she had stared at but a while ago. 

_Letting her hand wander slowly to his face, she drank her own reflection from his dark, calm eyes. In their endless depths, no longer there was the glimmer of haste, and pain, and the long concealed longing that had once been their only light. The time and space were nonexistent, they had long since passed and joined with the eternity, encapsulated in his black pupils that now shimmered with peace. _

Heedless of all, her fingers traced slowly the line of his cheek. With every inch they remembered the familiar curves, the feel of his skin under her fingertips that would always leave her shivering with glee. He closed his eyes, and she found herself smiling ever so slightly at the bittersweet irony of that act. She couldn't know; her touch might have awakened more than the primal desire to share warmth and safety of arms, on a windless night that chilled only those sorrowful and alone. It mattered little; the call of his lips rang loud and clear with a thousand silver bells, singing in unison somewhere deep within her heart. 

He caught her hand as it slid down his face and onto the back of his neck, and held it down, gently. Letting her draw him nearer and nearer, slowly, she knew he felt the warmth of her breath on his lips that caused them to part in ravenous awaiting. She pulled closer, letting his hand run down her arm as she held him close, nearer and nearer until her breath and his breath became one, his lips and her lips two parts of one entirety. 

Leah shuddered violently. No, it had never happened. How could her mind have played such games with her? In the thirty-three years of her life she had not yet come to learn how it felt to truly love someone, and Van Helsing, that man she had hunted for years, was farthest from having anything to do with it as he could be. Then why was she trembling so, trying as she might to chase away the image of him from her mind, the taste of him she never knew from her mouth, the sound of his voice from her ears? 

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she breathed deeply time after time, idly rubbing her temples. "Go away," she spoke in hoarse whisper as she pulled herself up, leaning against the cold wall. None of this had happened, it must have been weariness and hunger and lack of rest in many days that had conjured up such false memories. 

- - -

A run of cold shivers down his spine reminded him that he had yet to put his clothes back on. Having fixed a makeshift band-aid on his arm, Gabriel dressed up and made himself as comfortable as he could. For a short while he sat against the wall, his eyes closed as he tried to relax, but something had made him restless, uneasy. He rose and paced to the window. 

The rain had stopped, though the night sky was still cast with dark, heavy clouds. It struck him how silence embraced all, now, that the only sound was that of the trees, moved occasionally by a stronger blow of wind. 

He turned around to the soft sound of footsteps behind his back. 

With a blank look on her face, Leah paced the room. She looked at him only once; all the emotion that had been so clear in her eyes was now gone. Without a word, she tossed a thick volume on the tabletop, and leaned against the chair. "I thought you might find it useful," she said when she met Gabriel's questioning look. 

His eyebrows climbing into his hairline, Van Helsing sat down. "And that is?" 

Scuffing her foot against the floor, Leah let out a small sigh. She bit down on her lower lip and sat down opposite him on the other chair. "Liam," she said, observing as the man tensed at the sound of the vampire's name, his eyes darting from her face to the book in an instant. "Our local prince nuisance," she added sarcastically, opening the book on the first page. 

Was that where it had been heading all the time? His assignments never failed to remind him of the necessity to fulfill them, one way or another. "Now we're getting somewhere." Van Helsing shifted his weight and leaned forth. "Looks like I don't top your to-kill list, after all." He looked up swiftly, meeting a pair of cold gray eyes, and smirked. 

"Not anymore," Leah sneered. Then she pointed her finger at the book, her eyes still locked with Van Helsing's. Her voice was saturated with sheer loathing as she said, "This one, he tops the list."

* * *

. 

**Verona Dracula:** Whoa, two reviews at once =) That was a nice surprise. As you can see, it's taken me terribly long to complete this chapter, afterall. First a major case of writer's block, then trouble with some scenes here, but finally, here it is. I really do hope you enjoy this one =) Now that I've finished this chapter, I will finally have time to review your CarlGabriel story =) Have been reading all the time, only haven't reviewed yet. I will. That's a promise. 

**m31:** Once again, thank you VERY much for your review. Your reviews are so helpful. I hope you'll get to read this chapter soon, and that you'll be back online soon as well. 

**ElvenPirate41:** Alright, I think I can say now what the other reference was; If you've seen X2, you'll know: During Wolverine's fight with Deathstrike, when he fills her up with adamantium, it flows out of her mouth and her eyes [like tears; that's what it reminded me of] I did a similar thing with the vampire blood flowing out of the Ghoul's eyes as he died. Just a little attempt at creeping out my readers ::snicker:: 

**Tigris T Draconis:** I'm sorry it's taken so long, I really am. I do hope, though, that this chapter was worth the long awaiting. Looking forward to finding out what you think =) 


	7. Daring the Devil

**VII. Daring the Devil**

Van Helsing studied the first few pages of the handwritten book in complete silence. His face bore a deep frown as his eyes ran up and down the timeworn paper. The list of names that told him nothing at all spilled across seven pages, put down in small, almost calligraphic letters. 

"Such a long list," he said at last. 

"None of the recently dead or missing are listed here." Leah rested her elbows on the table. She sighed and fixed her eyes on the book, her face blank. "There has been no one to keep it up to date." 

His frown seemed to deepen as Gabriel slowly turned the page and, raising his head, he met the woman's eyes. "All of those have died at the hands of just one vampire?" he asked at last. 

"We don't know how many of them live there," said Leah, shaking her head. "Four have been spotted, but I wouldn't trust that count. How many lurk in the castle, and how many Ghoul servants they keep, is unknown." 

Van Helsing looked thoughtful, his head slightly bowed. Leah allowed herself to keep her eyes upon his face a little longer than it was necessary, as the memory of the eerie vision she had experienced washed over her with new intensity. She searched his face, but the man seemed heedless of her stare. Leah rose from her chair and leaned against the window, taking his silence as her cue to continue. 

"For fourteen years my family had kept a record of all people who had disappeared without a trace. That's the first two pages. It's up to you to decide whether they didn't know exactly what fate those men met, or if they just refused to accept it," she said grimly. A brief glance in his direction was countered with a blatant question written in Van Helsing's face, so she added, "No one ever spoke of it aloud." 

Gabriel shrugged and resumed flipping the pages. He lingered on each of them for a longer while, holding still as he focused. His search for a name that would strike the cord of familiarity within him proved vain. "The list is longer than that," he spoke at length. 

Leah nodded. "The rest are those who have been found. Dead. Slaughtered. Some were hard to identify-" 

"They fought," Van Helsing interrupted, glancing up at her. He met her gaze and held it up briefly; he seemed surprised to see Leah quickly look away. 

"Nothing could have saved them," she said bitterly. Pushing the images of horror back in her mind was her way of coping with such memories. At times, it seemed like the only way. She sat down, biting her lower lip and idly turned a couple of pages. "I was eight years old when this hell broke loose. During the fourteen years of terror that followed, the number of people in this land has decreased as much because of the undead, as because those who still had some reason left, escaped." 

"So much for the renowned defiance of the Irish." Gabriel smirked half-heartedly. 

Leah caught him in an eye-to-eye stare. She leaned her face in close, a clear hint of anger blazing in her otherwise cold eyes. "Van Helsing," she hissed, "We're talking about over a thousand people here. Do yourself a favor and save your sarcasm for some other time." 

His brow shot up at such a fierce response, yet something withheld his retort. Letting out a silent sigh, Van Helsing dropped his gaze under the pressure of hers. 

"Some were strangers none had seen before," Leah continued after a pause. As quickly as she had previously gone into a verbal assault, she now went back to stoic calm. "Some were my friends. It didn't matter. The vampires fed on us just the same." For a short moment she drummed her fingers on the table, then she looked away. "Don't question their reasons for leaving. They were scared. Said there's a curse at work here and all who stay are doomed to die." 

Van Helsing sought eye contact with her as she spoke, but whether or not Leah felt his gaze focused on her, she ignored it. "But it stopped," he said slowly. The seventh page, where the last name closed the long list, bore a date: 1878. 

"Eleven years ago." Leah looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "One day, they just left this land. Or so it seemed. Though the folks hoped for it more than I was inclined to believe." 

Gabriel frowned. "Why?" 

"Now and then some would still go missing. They've never been found." Her hand halted, hovering above the book and her face turned to stone. "A few graves have been robbed. Strange that those whose bodies just vanished at night were the most rowdy men known around here. They disappeared no more than a week after they were buried." She let out a long sigh. "Still, all of that was infrequent, until the fall of last year. That's when everything began once again." 

Her face set and focused, Leah continued slowly turning the pages. She went past the long passages of records; half-true, fear-painted tales, told by peasants who were unfortunate enough to have seen the vampires on the hunt. She did not stop until she found the page she was looking for. It showed a drawing of a rather handsome man, roughly forty years old. Her eyes narrowed in a sudden, sweeping wave of emotion and her palms went damp. She did not need to look at that face to summon its image in her mind at any given time. 

The sound of Van Helsing clearing his throat brought her back to the present. She looked up, when he asked if anyone had ever tried to kill the vampire prince. 

"Too many to count," she replied coldly. Her mouth was dry, yet suddenly she realized that it was not merely caused by the confrontation with the image of her enemy. She licked her lips and forced herself to keep her gaze leveled with Van Helsing's. "The hunters came from all over Ireland," she continued. "Countless peasants have also tried. They sought revenge, but all they found was death." Her voice dropped until it was unusually quiet. "None have succeeded. None have _returned_." 

Gabriel leaned against the table. The candle light was faint; his hair cast black shadows on the page. As the flame flickered on a small breath of wind, the shadows danced across the paper. For a split second it seemed as though the face that was pictured there had come alive. 

Leah turned that page with anger, and then another. Her hand was slightly trembling. She opened the book on a set of hand-drawn maps, consoling herself with a deep breath. "These are the places where bodies were found." The spots were marked with crosses, so numerous all across the whole of County Cork county that it would prove too challenging to count. "These," she pointed to black dots, scattered and fewer in number, "show where the vampires were seen." 

Gabriel locked eyes with the huntress. "Those were not men that interrupted our fight," he said, remembering the sudden break in their duel, and the unexpected encounter from the previous night. "They were too small, even for a child." 

Leah shrugged her shoulders and shook her head 'no'. "It would seem that not only humans fall under their spells. Alive or undead, many do their bidding. Bats, horses, God knows what else." 

"Scouts," Van Helsing nodded thoughtfully. 

"Possibly." Leah leaned back in her chair, wincing a little as she did so. Now, as the tension had begun to subside, she slowly noticed her body was growing sore. Having resolved to try and ignore it, at least for the time being, she shifted her sight back to the man and returned to leaning against the tabletop. "They fear no one and nothing and like in the past, they don't even conceal their presence at all. The people are frightened. Few dare leave their homes after dusk." 

Gabriel smirked. "None save those for whom there's a big bounty at stake." 

Try as she might, Leah couldn't imagine he would ever stop mocking her about it. "And those who claim to have come to help." _Indeed_, she mused. There was a challenge in the very look in his eyes. 

The hardly feigned calm didn't reach his eyes. "You're daring the Devil," he said. 

Something in the tone of his voice told Leah that he knew well of what he spoke. "So are you," she retorted. 

"That's the bright side of this job." 

The smile that bloomed on his face was designed to look genuine, she knew. Perhaps even soothing. Yet, she could not be deceived; not after having spent so many years risking her own life in a strangely alike way. Leah tilted her head. "Is it, now? What's the dark side, then?" 

Gabriel's face grew serious as he said, "The one I'm hoping not to see once I go into that castle." 

"That alone tells me you must have lost your mind," said Leah, and rose to her feet. She took a few steps, then stopped in her tracks. She could feel Van Helsing's sight on her back, and turned around. The man regarded her curiously. "So, your task is to kill him," she said. "For once, our purposes do not contradict." 

As he rose also, Leah felt her heart quicken its pace. When he was just a step away from her, within an arm's reach, her breath stuck in her throat. A quick tirade ran through her mind, for she caught herself showing the signs of her unease. She spent all focus she could spare on bracing herself. 

Van Helsing looked at her closely. "I work alone," he said. 

"So do I." Her voice trembled. She took a deep breath. "Perhaps that's why Liam is still alive. If _alive_ is what you can call it." 

---

The night's grip of steel tightened on them both, as the minutes passed slowly and silence lay between them. Leah found herself having to tend to something or other at all times. Her own thoughts stirred her blood if only she let herself sit idle. Strange, how restless she felt if she held still for but a while. 

By the time all the broken glass had vanished from the floor and the woman rose, steadying herself, for she felt slightly lightheaded, she knew that the night would soon begin to wane. She looked around. The house brought memories; some of them were sweet, and she often found herself going back in time to the years of her youth. Yet some were dark, and at times she wished she had no memory of them at all. All was quiet in the house, and somehow she knew that it would always stay that way. The times when that place rang with joy belonged to the past. She had long since accepted that fact. 

Her sight wandered to Gabriel's tall figure, resting on the bed. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Whether the man was asleep, or merely watched her, when she turned around, with those chestnut eyes that haunted her thoughts, she did not know. 

Sighing, she warmed more water; she would need it. She couldn't resist watching Van Helsing - from distance, and yet with great care. Six years before, she would have given anything and everything for a chance to kill him. His cunning tricks truly managed to drive her to impossible fury. Four years ago, that wish had nearly come true. Now, that man she had sworn to hunt down was right there, in her family house, and he was no prisoner, as she used to like to imagine him. To her own surprise, Leah found herself unable to think of him that way anymore. Silently, she was grateful that the bullet she had fired in Dublin had gone astray. Thinking she had rid the world of evil, she would have had the blood of that man on her hands. And whoever he was, he _could not_ be evil. 

As quietly as she could, Leah gathered all she needed and headed for the small room. 

---

Placing a candle on a chair, Leah looked around. A sudden thought prompted her to walk back to the door. She leaned against the wall, just in such distance so that the light from the main room would not accidentally spill on her tall silhouette. Having left the door slightly ajar, she could hear the faint sound of Van Helsing's shallow, irregular breaths. It told her that he was asleep - or so it seemed. Try as she might, she could not rid herself of the strange feeling that gnawed at her stomach. The feeling of familiarity that almost beamed in his eyes as she looked into them; she knew he must have seen the same in her, too. 

Nonetheless, it was far from being enough of a reason for her to trust him. To trust that he would not, after all, turn out to be the murderer most of the world believed him to be, was too reckless even in her book. A part of her was, perhaps, ready to grant him some amount of trust. But her reason was not. 

Her eyes half-closed, Leah listened to his soft breathing that gradually began to calm as it caught on the steady rhythm. Yet, it still wasn't the sound that signified peaceful sleep, such as that one would hear in a child. Neither the hunters nor the hunted ever really slept. That must have been one of the first things she had learned eleven years before, when she claimed her first bounty. The man she had caught had sworn revenge, and long after the fear of it haunted her dreams, never letting her sleep peacefully again. 

Even as the list of her completed tasks had grown long over the years, some things never went back to what they had been like before that day when she first earned money on her own. Even though, in time, that fear had gone away into nothing but a faint memory, the constant vigilance remained. It was one of many traits of a hunter that was of purely contradictory nature: both desired and loathed. It was of little comfort to know that no wanted man knew peaceful sleep either. 

She could not help but wonder, as she glanced quickly beyond the door at his figure resting on the bed, under which category would Van Helsing fall. For years he had been prey to her, a man to find and eliminate. Yet his skills were those of a fine hunter, trained and driven not only by the need to survive. _Who are you?_ she kept asking in her mind, knowing no answer would come, unless in time. _Perhaps a bit of both._ Fighting back the haunting thoughts, she sighed and slowly paced across the room. 

The hot water steamed, leaving small pearls of sweat on her face as Leah leaned over the bucket. She closed her eyes, absorbing the warmth and the comfort it brought with it. Even if it couldn't ease the tension that still kept her mind uneasy, perhaps it could bring a little relief to her body. Her back burned; only now she began to feel the aftermath of a fall from the horse under the weight of the large man. Wincing, she carefully took off her tunic; but the shirt underneath had stuck to her skin as blood dried out on it. She grimaced and sucked in a breath with a long hiss, trying to tear it away. 

Lack of sleep in over three days had made her slightly nauseous; no pain would have been bothersome as much as was the fear of not being watchful enough, if she was so careless as to close her eyes for but a short moment. 

She reached to her back, in another failed attempt to remove the fabric from her wounds. Before she managed to curse herself for not having done it earlier, her hand was caught in a firm yet gentle hold. With a sharp movement she turned around, tearing her shirt from her back. She groaned and looked up, meeting a pair of chestnut eyes that stared at her intently. 

"Do you always enter without knocking?" she barked, breaking her hand free from Van Helsing's grasp. She should have known he would trick her again. Angry more at herself than at the man, she pulled her shirt down and stared intently into his face. 

Van Helsing seemed unconcerned by having surprised her in such manner. "Only when the door is open," he spoke lightly. 

Leah rolled her eyes, and turned away from him. "You're not exactly expecting me to believe that?" 

Slowly, Gabriel lifted the hem of her shirt. The woman's head turned and she cast him a questioning look. It was his turn to almost roll his eyes, but Van Helsing chose to only raise an eyebrow meaningfully. "I can only return the favor," he said. 

Leah sighed and handed a wet cloth to him. "A form of a thank-you, I take it?" 

Gabriel smiled ever so slightly; in his eyes there was a wistful reflection of his thoughts that wandered along some unknown paths. His gentle hands slowly hovered over Leah's neck, brushing away her hair. The huntress leaned forth, supporting herself on the chair, and bit down her lower lip at the first touch to her back. Darkness surrounded her swiftly as soon as she closed her eyes. That had left her needlessly focused on the stings of pain in her skin. But, something was distracting, so distracting that she opened her eyes in an instant, and shuddered. 

"I'm sorry," Gabriel said softly, withdrawing his hands as she turned around. 

Leah's eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of his face. Van Helsing returned the stare, the corners of his lips drawing up in a small smile. Once more, the huntress caught herself drifting away into a strange realm of visions of what was, what had been, and what could possibly be the meaning of all this. Just being there, in that faintly lit room, with that man, who had changed in her eyes over just a night, had left her puzzled and perturbed. 

Suddenly she felt her skin crawl as Gabriel's hand wandered up, as if absently, and his fingers entangled with a strand of her hair. Instantly it rendered her vulnerable to the charm of such intimacy. That alone drove her to distraction, away from the path of clear mind she had sworn she would not stray from at any cost. Beneath a fall of dark hair, Gabriel's brown eyes regarded her carefully, locking with her own as she met his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat, yet she would not even notice, were it not for the eerie silence that suddenly made her heartbeat seem to echo in the walls of the small room. Driven by something she couldn't nor wanted to understand - by the searing fire behind her eyes, the strange dryness of her throat, so bizarre while her lips were wet, Leah slowly sneaked her hands around his neck. 

In her mind's eye she saw what her eyes could not see. For a split second, all she was sure of was that, behind the distant look in his unfocused eyes, that man, who drove her straight down the road of passion, saw the same promise of freedom neither of them knew. All bonds and constraints had gone up in flames, just to disappear, as the invisible barrier between them collapsed. Shrouded in shadows of the masks they had put on for the sake of their game, it now called for its right to surface, leading her will to command her palms to travel across the warm realm of his skin. 

No, it could not be real. She never knew his smell, so primal and raw, as she knew it now. Surrounding her, it made her tremble with fear and desire and craving she tried to resist, yet failed. It snatched her mind, her life as she knew it, and the leftovers of reason fled the instant his face was just right next to hers. Suddenly, his breath was one with hers, his lips so close to hers and yet still so far, farther than she wished them to be. 

_He didn't need to look into her face, that seemed as though it were curved from stone, to know every line, each texture. The warmth that beamed from her entire being, her inviting arms, all of her rendered his heart and his mind and his hands impatient beyond reason. Her hands sought their way to his, her fingers tangled with his cast him straight into the pit of pure madness. That madness had her face, her eyes that spoke of all no words could ever tell, and her silky voice that dropped until he could hear it no more save in his mind. Now it whispered his name between quickly drawn breaths._

_Who are you?_ Gabriel's chaotic mind wailed, as he forced himself to keep his focus on the woman beside him. He knew that face, he knew it so well and, with a blink of an eye, it no longer mattered how, or why. 

She felt his rapid breath on her swollen lips, and the world kept twirling around her. Soon she remembered nothing save the touch of his skin under her hand, and felt nothing save her body growing weightless as he drew her close, capturing her lips with his own. She closed her eyes, powerless against the wild waves of warmth that flew through her, invading the tiniest fibers of her body, darting through her mind. In an instant she knew; his taste was not new, not unfamiliar, but rather like the return of something missed and longed for, beyond both insanity and reason. 

_How did she know? _The question pounded in his mind, in a furious unison with his racing heart. _No longer forbidden, the taste of her was sweeter than it had ever been. No longer snatched in secrecy, and under the pain of guilt and the danger of shame, the caress of her lips was growing wild by the second, leaving him breathless and crawling at the feet of Desire, craving ever more to feed this hopeless addiction to her skin. Now he knew; the world could collapse here and now and it wouldn't matter. All that mattered was that touch and that moment, and her skin by his skin and all where he ended and she began._

Her hands searched their way to his face, lips unwilling to part with his, against a voice in her mind that screamed that it could not be anything but another game. But, his eyes spoke of truth as she looked into them. She let out a small gasp upon their reluctant parting. Cursed be reason if it hushed that hunger, when it proved itself strong enough to force her to tear away from him. Gasping for breath, Leah dropped her gaze. 

"I think that makes up for my lost reward," she spoke in hoarse whisper as she leaned into him. Her cheek brushed lightly against his. As if on cue, she felt swept out of reality on a great wave of emotion. Gabriel's hair tickled her skin. With the remnant of reason, she pulled away. 

Van Helsing closed his eyes and smiled, but Leah was already gone. Slowly he turned around, looking to where she had vanished. The only signs of her ever being there were the door, swinging as she pushed it, and her tunic, cast carelessly across the chair. 

He would leave her to her own thoughts, though the sudden urge to follow her proved hard to resist. The line between reality and dream blurred in his own mind; the images he saw as their lips met were not those he would have seen, had his eyes been open. Yet the will to discover their source took place of confusion, even though he resolved to let time reveal more pieces of that puzzle. 

That night, he hoped more than ever that the pieces of his past would finally fall into place. 

---

Leah collapsed on the chair, her breathing labored and her heart exceeding all of its limits. She hid her face in her hands, slowly shaking her head. Try as she might, she could not shrug off the memory of the past few minutes, still so vivid in her mind. She focused on her breathing until her heart slowed down. Gradually, as the time passed, her body heeded the plea of her mind to let go of passion, and allow her to rest. 

She did not even notice when sleep came over her, and it took her swiftly in its soothing embrace. 

---

The approaching dawn chased away the gray remnants of the night, when Leah awoke in her bed. Stretching her stiffened muscles, she reached out her arms. She froze abruptly, when her hand landed on something soft. In an instant her eyes shot open and she looked to her right. Her eyebrow climbed into her hairline at the sight on Van Helsing, still sound asleep, lying by her side. 

Sleep released her from its grasp in an instant, just as she realized that she did not remember lying down. Not by Van Helsing's side. _Not at all._ She frowned, her stare fixed upon his face. The peaceful look she saw there had somehow managed to sweep all anger away. She could only suspect how she found herself on that bed, and her head shook in a mix of disbelief at the man's incorrigibility, and some strange sort of amusement. 

Quiet, careful not to wake him, Leah moved away her hand from the man's chest, and rolled onto her side. She watched him for a while, a faint smile playing in the corner of her lips. She watched him draw slow, undisturbed breaths, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Unmoving she lay, studying the curves of his face, his dark hair spread across the small pillow. 

The makeshift bandage on his arm was stained with blood, but since he showed no signs of fever, Leah didn't find it particularly worrying. Gabriel stirred lightly as she rose, yet his eyes remained closed. She slipped out of the bed, slowly, and watched him sleep from the corner of her eye. 

Then she remembered. All the events of the previous night returned to her sharp and clear. Still slightly puzzled, she paced the room and looked outside. The fog lay low, covering the land far ahead with its silky blanket. The first light of the newborn day called out to her with its tranquil whispers to walk outside the house. 

The land was quiet, not like she remembered it from the years of her childhood. Long ago, upon the coming of the first light in the morn, the woods sang along with the bright voices of children; men and women welcoming the sun as they went about their chores. Now, even the faint song of the birds was rare; an ominous silence lay about the land, a reminder of what had come to pass in the recent years. That evil had left its mark on it was painfully clear; the folks that had of old held that territory in their possession had long since traded the fading beauty of the woods for the safety of their lives. 

Wrapping her arms around herself with a small sigh, Leah sat on the doorstep. She looked to the East, where the sun had just begun its journey up the morning sky. She remembered how she used to enjoy it; the simple pleasure of seeing how nature unfolded its wonders before the curious eyes of a quiet witness. Yet, now her thoughts wandered. That man - she instantly knew she would call him a murderer no more - he somehow managed to summon the longing she had so long concealed deep within her. She found him so strangely similar; there was blood on her hands as there was on his. Not the blood of the innocent, but blood nonetheless. And she knew; there was more than just passion that brought them together. What it was, she both wished and feared to find out. 

The wind sang far in the treetops, its humming soft and soothing. The high branches bent to its will, obedient to the morning's call, to welcome home the one whom they had once thought lost. Leah looked up, her vision blurred as she stared straight into the rising sun, savoring its charm. Yet, in all the delight there was a faint shadow of grief, as yet unspoken, passing across her face. That which had been her light in the darkness, her call to return, was slowly fading into nothing but a memory. She began to hum absently, and she no longer saw what lay before her. 

I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red  
and round the World I will beg for bread  
until my parents would wish me dead.  
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán...  
  
Siúl, siúl, siúl, a rúin  
Siúl go socair agus siúl go ciúin  
Siúl go doras agus ealaigh liom  
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán... 

"Those are sad words." 

Leah turned abruptly to the sound of a voice behind her, the song breaking off as she looked up. Her eyes met with Van Helsing's for a splinter of a second, yet she chose not to hold up his gaze. The playful look she had come to see before was gone from his face, the last thing she noticed before turning to the blinding sun. "Some say that all good cannot live an eternal life. Sooner or later it's bound to be countered with evil." 

"So they say. For the good, it is all a test of faith," Gabriel spoke thoughtfully. He moved slowly toward her and sat down on the threshold, his gaze turned to the East. "But it is not what you sang of." 

"I felt the urge to provide some contradiction to this splendor." She feigned a smirk, pointing to the sun. Then her eyes unfocused and she smiled to herself; a truly genuine smile, summoned by a memory that ran through her mind. "We used to do that, as children," she said. "We would make up silly songs and sing them every morning." She broke off, turning to her companion. "Did I wake you up?" 

Their gazes locked for a split second, and instantly she understood the answer. It stunned her, yet that realization was far from unpleasant. She could read his face like an open book; it was new, and it caught her off-guard. "I've been told to keep my lips sealed far too many times, but around here, I'm known as one who seldom takes heed of good advice," she said. 

Gabriel laughed. Leah thought to herself that she had never heard him laugh so sincerely. She shot him a grin. "It's true." She laughed too, and felt as though suddenly a stone had been lifted from her chest. And it had been, if only for a short, precious moment. She knew that she would remember that moment, among others she had collected to summon when the times were dark. Then she grew serious once more; the bright light of the day served all too well as an acute reminder that there still was a task at hand. "If you haven't changed your mind overnight, there's someone who might help us get the job done," she said. "I don't know about you, but I have no intention to go in straight to get myself killed. I believe we should see him." 

Van Helsing rose to his feet, and looked down on the huntress. "I see you haven't changed your mind, either." 

"I seldom do." She sensed the banter coming; she would continue playing along. "I can't let my to-kill list shrink too much." 

"Has anyone told you that you've lost your mind?" asked Gabriel, regarding her with a smirk. 

Leah gave him a light punch as she stepped past him and entered the house. "Too many to count." 

---

Heads turned as their horses trotted through the village. Some men raised pitchforks and shovels at the suspicious-looking couple, working their way through the main lane. Some stepped forth, their heads inclined in recognition. Some backed away, shaking their heads disapprovingly, while others whispered quietly among each other. Some pointed fingers, yet those were few. No face bore a smile; wide eyes of children followed Van Helsing and Leah until the hunters vanished from their sight. 

At the end of the village, where the thick forest hid the road between its ancient trees stood a house. Distanced from other households it was, yet it did not appear abandoned. A wooden cart at its front looked prepared to leave, with several potato sacks piled up one on another. The horse whinnied impatiently at the sight of an old man, slowly limping his way down the stairs. 

Leah pulled the reins and smiled. The man's head quickly turned the instant he realized that the newcomers apparently had business with his farm. Time sprinkled his long hair with silver, and wrinkles ran deep across his face, betraying the hardships he had endured in his long life. Yet his eyes still reflected the strength that was once his greatest weapon, back in the times when Leah looked up to him in wonder. He stood his ground, his face brightening with a faint hint of recognition upon seeing the woman. Then he looked to Van Helsing, mounted upon his steed by Leah's side, and the old man's face turned to stone. 

Leah jumped to the ground. She kept eye contact with the man as she approached, and slightly bowed her head in greeting. 

"Leah Connor," the man spoke at last, extending his arm toward the huntress. "How long has it been? Five, six years?" 

"Padraig O'Hely." Leah smiled warmly, but found herself having to swallow down the fear as she caught the man glancing past her at her companion. No matter how many years had passed, she knew the old man was not inclined to forget. Having thought briefly that she was sure to do all but forget him, either, she took his hand in both of hers. Then she looked briefly over her shoulder. 

"This is-" 

"Gabriel Van Helsing," the man said in a surprisingly calm, almost hollow, voice. "I know who he is." 

---

* * *

**Revised version uploaded on Aug 9th 2004**

First of all, there's a lot of foreshadowing in this chapter =) So read carefully. It will click in due time ;) 

Second, to my lovely readers and reviewers: 

**Abraon:** Love, you've been such great help to me. Not only with this, but with the whole story. I'm telling you, together we're going to rule the world. So, where do we start? ::snicker: 

**Artemis1860:** I'm really glad you're hooked ;) I hope you still are. I had such great fun writing this chapter, I do hope that you enjoyed reading it also. 

**VeronaDracula:** Actually, that part had me go really emotional as well ::smirk:: Really. If you read this chapter, you saw how it unfolded, and I can tell you that THAT part was one of the most emotional things I've ever written. I hope you liked it ;) 

**ElvenPirate:** ::Waves:: How about now, as far as romantic/smutty stuff goes? Though this is not really smutty. It really isn't ::snicker:: If you ever think it's smutty, you should read some of my Matrix fanfiction =P 

**Wonda:** I'm writing these responses now as you're reading the chapter, still before the rest of the world can see it, and I'm really dying to know what you think =P I'm glad you found personal reference in chapter 6. Maybe you also managed to find some here. I always try to write things that people [and I myself] can relate too. Best writing is that which stems from life.


	8. Dreams Die Hard

**VIII. Dreams Die Hard**

Gabriel's eyes instantly grew wide with surprise. It was not that the old man knew his name, and the moment he saw him, he matched it with his face. Van Helsing's name was known among hunters, as was the picture of him on the wanted posters - vague, but detailed enough so that an experienced eye could make no mistake. It was not even that Padraig knew his given name; that fact, though disturbing, only brushed his conscious, and Gabriel quickly decided to ponder it at a later time. 

It was, however, the look of sheer certainty, that particular hint of recognition that reflected on the old man's face. The tone of Padraig's voice spoke of knowledge that went far beyond what the world knew of him. There was something in his eyes - he was strangely calm, despite the grave mask he had put on upon their arrival, his gestures told Gabriel that the stranger was not a stranger at all. He seemed content, in a peculiar way, as though their coming to his house had not only been expected, but anticipated for a long time. 

The old hunter measured Van Helsing, studying him with care, and Gabriel couldn't rid himself of an acute feeling that, from this man, there was no secret he could keep. He exhaled slowly to restore his composure. It was not like him to give a potential opponent such advantage as to let him know that he had been caught by surprise. 

Leah's eyes were narrowed and her brow furrowed. She kept shifting her sight from one man to the other. The sheer concentration written in Van Helsing's features told her that he searched his memory, yet failed to trace any source of familiarity in Padraig's name or face. His eyes were fixed stubbornly upon the old man as the two regarded each other warily. 

It seemed as though hours had passed, not seconds, before Leah stepped forth and, clearing her throat, she broke the uncomfortable silence. All reason told her that there was nothing strange in Padraig's knowledge of Van Helsing, although she found herself taken by surprise by the way he had welcomed them, going straight to business. She remembered having spoken with Padraig of that strange, wanted man, in the years when she had been too reckless and inexperienced to have been his match. She remembered the old hunter's subtle suggestions that, one day, she might lay her hands on the prize for his head. And now, that the man himself had come to his domain in her company, even Padraig's obviously feigned astonishment at their arrival could not have misled her. She could not understand; what business did he have to act in such way? Was he not the same man who had taken the young huntress under his wings many years ago? For all Leah knew, he had retired when his encounter with Liam's vampires resulted in too many wounds to ever fully heal. Padraig bore his scars with pride, but never again did he set out on the hunt afterwards. 

And yet, a voice in her mind whispered that she should let her thought reach beyond the safe assumptions, explanations her mind provided to calm her, designed to keep from her something crucial. What lay beneath the surface might as well lead to a disaster, she knew, yet somehow it seemed to her that it would happen only if she failed to see all ends. 

Padraig's dry voice took her out of her reverie. "Last time I checked, you didn't need my approval before collecting a bounty," he said a bit mockingly. Looking up at Gabriel, the old hunter regarded him with a critical glare. "He doesn't look like a prisoner, either." 

Her face remained calm, but Leah stirred inside at the memory of the previous night that momentarily came over her with a wave of mixed warmth and shame. She found it hard to shrug off; it felt almost as though the recollection lingered not only in her mind, but it had summoned quite physical form of pressure where Van Helsing's hands had touched her, where her lips still remembered his. Instantly she reasoned with herself that Padraig could not know that; the father figure he sometimes was to her would never learn, unless she told him, that she had dismissed the hunter's duty in favor of an impulse, that she had allied herself with that man because trust was born between them out of a hunch, not a tangible reason. 

"It's a long story," she said at last. 

The look Padraig fixed her with immediately demanded a more precise answer, and the flash in his eyes warned her that it had better be truth. "I'm sure it is," he said, his voice saturated with an underlying tone of disapproval. His last words were left hanging as though to prompt her to speak. 

But Leah couldn't bring herself to tell him of all that had come to pass since the night she had sneaked up on Van Helsing in the wild. Nor was she willing to do so - now that she thought of it, it seemed so bizarre, that she could never count on the old man's understanding - let alone approval - of any of this. 

"I…" she started hesitantly, remembering the purpose of their visit. Upon casting a brief glance at Gabriel, she reflected on her choice of words. "_We_ need your help." 

The old man's brow furrowed in surprise. Strangely enough, his eyes seemed as though they were made of steel and stone, no hint of wonder flickered in their endlessly deep blues. He said, "I can't begin to imagine why the _two_ of you would need _my_ help." 

Gabriel shrugged, showing his discomfort as if he strained against invisible bonds. "We're wasting time here," he barked impatiently, taken aback by the old hunter's attitude. When Leah had told him, on their way here, that the man was the closest to a family she still had in this land, and that he had always been eager to aid her, he had expected all but this. 

Aware of Van Helsing's unease, Leah reached out her hand as if to stop him, though Gabriel had not yet made a move. She locked her eyes with his for a second, mutely pleading with him to wait. With a soundless sigh, Van Helsing obeyed. From his eye's corner he watched as Padraig stood still, just as he had when this strange conversation began, with his arms crossed on his chest. He could have sworn there was a shade of amusement painted on the wrinkled face. 

Leah turned to Padraig. "I need you to tell me all you know about Liam." 

"I know what everyone knows," said the hunter. "What _you_ know as well. Strange days have come indeed, if now, of all times, you choose to go after him, while the bounty for Van Helsing's head could settle you for years." 

"That one's personal," Leah said slowly. Deep down she began to feel wary of him; his immediate answer, though vague, bore no hint of surprise anymore. She began to wonder if, in some eerie trance, she hadn't already told him her purpose. It seemed to her as though each question she asked, each thing she said, was leading the conversation further away from the track she had wanted it to go. 

"Personal?" Padraig fake-frowned at her, at Van Helsing, and smiled somewhat ironically, as if to take some weight off his grave tone. "I can tell. But I bet it's tempting to score such a good catch," he teased. 

Leah regarded him with a wry smirk. "Dreams die hard," she said. 

Behind them, curiosity drove people from their homes. The villagers gathered on the road, short ways away from the house. Now, they watched the three talk at Padraig's door. Even though no words had been spoken loud enough for the bystanders to hear, Leah suddenly realized that being in the center of attention was far from what they needed. Indeed, such company of two - a renegade, whom many have surely recognized by now; and a once rebellious child, who had grown up, away from her homeland, to a woman who lived what they considered the opposite of a decent life, would be on many tongues in the several weeks to come. They needed no more attention than they had already drawn. 

Leah pointed significantly to the gathering on the road, and looked past Padraig at the half-open door. The old man stepped aside, making way for her and Van Helsing to enter. 

She walked in, sure in her tracks, although she briefly looked over her shoulder as her companion climbed the stairs with ease. Padraig's face was blank when his gaze turned to her, then back to Van Helsing. She couldn't help but notice that the old hunter's attitude was devoid of all emotion - his look upon Gabriel told her as little as had any of his actions. She shrugged; something was not right, and she began to wonder if coming here was indeed a good idea. 

"Alright, have it your way. Ask," the hunter said, when the door closed behind them. 

Leah strode to the table and sat in one of the four heavy, wooden chairs. Van Helsing leaned in doorway, but she beckoned him forward with a wave of her hand. Padraig O'Hely took another chair for himself, at the head of the long table. 

"You alone survived a meeting with one of the vampires," she started. 

"How?" Van Helsing cut her off immediately, frowning. Perhaps coming here wasn't a waste of time, after all. 

"You never speak of it," Leah continued upon Padraig's silence. By the second she believed more strongly that he knew every question which was to be asked that day, one wicked way or another. "It's said they can't be killed. But if there's a way, I need to know, and I need it now." 

The old man remained silent, but to Leah he didn't appear thoughtful, judging whether they were worth knowing the true tale of the events from five years ago, or not. His stare was piercing upon her face, as he took his time to engage the whole of his visitors' attention. 

"My lucky star shone bright on the sky that night," he began at last, letting out a humorless laugh. As he leaned back in his chair, Padraig released Leah from the grip of his stare. 

He reminded her of the old days, when he had told tales, passed from father to son, over a pint of beer. It was long ago, when she had been a girl with a goal that he made possible for her to achieve. 

"I ran into them on the outskirts of Cork. It's a mystery to me why they set out to the city, so far from their lair. You would think it makes a difference where they feed." Padraig shrugged and took a deep breath. "The female vanished from my sight. Must have continued her search for prey, for soon the cries of terror reached me, loud and clear. Horror, and death," Padraig said, gesticulating slowly as if to emphasis the weight of his words. 

He did not need to. Having faced death before, on more than one occasion, Leah and Gabriel alike were fixed with memories of their own, depicting the scene better than a description would. 

"The male was watching me, his fangs bare and hate in his black eyes. He held a man in his hands - couldn't have seen more than thirty springs. The poor fool was still alive." 

As he paused, Leah became aware of dismay lining her face, and she averted her eyes. She overcame the nauseating sensation before the hunter went on with his tale. 

"I saw the vampire rip that man to shreds. Lifted him up, like he weighed nothing. Drank him dry, until his skin was like that of a withered apple. Threw him away, like a useless thing." Padraig's face was blank when he spoke. Even as he recalled those memories that surely must have left a scar on more than just his flesh, he seemed entirely unaffected by the horror of it. 

"I hurled myself at him," the hunter continued two deeper breaths later. "With a wooden stake in my hand. But even though he couldn't have been much taller, he tossed me left and right, kicking, clawing, until he decided he'd toyed enough." His voice dropped and his speech slowed down. Looking at the two on the other end of the table, he seemed pleased that neither of them moved nor made a sound. "At last he stood above me; I lay wheezing on the ground. Looking weaker than I was, you see. He reached down for me, and then - I did it." 

The pause that followed was deliberate; having known the man for more than a half of her life, Leah knew how much delight Padraig took in telling the tales of his many quests, and how much of a show he liked to make of it. Despite that, his ways still had her long for more as he broke off, always just before he reached the crucial part. Like a child, yearning in anticipation for the story to unfold, Leah could not resist asking, "Did what?" 

Padraig summoned a triumphant smile. "I drove the stake through his heart. He fell. I got to my feet and took flight, as fast as this old body of mine allowed. But then - something happened." 

Letting the man take his time, Leah shifted her weight. The chair seemed strangely uncomfortable. 

"The night began to wane," The hunter resumed his story once more. "Thirty, perhaps forty minutes till sunrise. Then suddenly, just as I turned to leave, the female returned. My, have I ever heard a shriek like that of hers! I took cover in the trees nearby, you see, hoping that sunrise would catch her outside and burn her down to Hell. But then, curse her, she came to her mate and drove my stake out of his chest." Padraig shifted his gaze from Leah to Van Helsing and back. "He stood up." 

The hunter spoke with such deep contempt that Leah shuddered. 

"As if nothing happened. They fled before the sun licked at their rotten flesh." 

Leah let out a quiet sigh, absently shaking her head. Beneath a fall of red hair, her eyes were turned down, her brow furrowed, her hands clasped together. She was pale when she looked up at Padraig once more. "They spared you." Her tone underlined with a thin thread of disbelief, it still seemed to have had no impact on the hunter at all. He was resilient to her trying to sort through his words to find which were true and which were not. 

"Oh, I'm sure it was never their intention to let me get away," Padraig dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "But their fear of the sun is far greater than their urge to kill." 

Leah still pondered the tale he had told, time after time glancing at Van Helsing. She tried to read his face, to guess what he made of it all, for doubt shadowed much of her perception of truth, as far as the vampires went. Not once did he meet her gaze, not during the story, not after, not now. His unblinking eyes were focused on something indefinite on the far wall of the common room. Van Helsing seemed absent, but Leah would not be deceived by his oblivious mask. She knew he had listened. She would bet she knew exactly what he was thinking. 

Not before she spoke did Gabriel look toward her. His face was dark and grim. 

"If a stake won't kill him…" she started, never looking away, despite an urge to do so. She did not like the other alternative at all; it might seem easy, but she knew - in this job, if something was easy, it was also likely to be fatal. 

"We'll drag him out in the open, and let the sun do its job," said Gabriel. 

Both of them looked at Padraig. 

The hunter rose from his chair, fiercely shaking his head. "You won't beat him in combat. No man is a match for a vampire like this. Even his minions are too strong for just one to defeat. He'll have you dead before you draw your weapon." 

"I've fought vampires before," Gabriel said carefully. "And we killed four Ghouls in the wild last night." 

He was glad that neither Padraig O'Hely nor Leah knew the cost of victory over a certain vampire. This was one of the things he would rather keep to himself forever. Yet, fighting Dracula had left a mark on his confidence, even though he would be loath to admit it. Some of the dark forces were beyond any mortal man to banish from the world, he knew it now. Nothing could be gained at no cost at all. Deep down Gabriel feared what the price for killing Liam would turn out to be. 

Padraig smiled wryly. He strode with no sign of haste toward the end of the table where Van Helsing and Leah were. He stood there, within an arm's reach, towering above them like an ageless statue of a prophet and a bearer of bad news. As he looked down on them, Gabriel wasn't sure whether he had not noticed before how tall the man was, or if it was an illusion, conjured up by his mind, or perhaps by the man himself. For some strange, uncanny reason, Gabriel suddenly felt very small. 

"I'm sure vampires aren't a novelty to you, but not ones like Liam, surely not ones like him," Padraig spoke at length. "If the Devil sired more than one of his kind, Heaven help God's kingdom on this Earth." He sighed. He no longer seemed quite as tall or half as magnificent. "No man can kill Liam, save, _perhaps_, by trickery." 

Two pairs of eyes pleaded for an answer; the question hung in the air and needed not be said aloud. 

"North of the castle there's a graveyard," Padraig said. "At the far end, there's a crypt. At all times it's guarded by Ghouls. Day and night. They let no one come near it, and it's been long since any tried." 

Leah's brow climbed up at those words. "How exactly does that help us?" she asked suspiciously. 

Suddenly, a thought crossed Gabriel's mind - it came unbidden, and yet its clarity convinced him that it must have been his own. The only thing that concerned him was that it could not have been, but Van Helsing had no time to think about it. Words began to slip past his lips, as if against his will. "There's a legend," he said in a voice that sounded half like his own. "It says a vampire can't be killed, if his heart was taken out and hidden in a secret place, to protect the immortal life. Only if you find where the heart is, and destroy it - not by stake, holy water, nor a silver cross - but by utterly destroying its very substance, can the vampire be slain." 

When the words stopped flowing, Gabriel looked up at the old man, bewildered and uneasy. Padraig's face resembled stone. He nodded gravely. "Either that, or by dragging him out into sunlight, as you said before. But that is beyond me, you, or even the two of you together." He leaned against the table, each of his huge palms pressing hard against the tabletop as they bore much of his weight. "They fear fire, but I wouldn't rely on it as a weapon. Too many a vampire can suppress their fear so well that it would be useless. And their wounds are quick to heal." 

From past experience, Gabriel could attest to what the old man had said about fire. All means by which the common people thought the vampires could be vanquished were insufficient. He shook his head at those thoughts. No wonder the local folk feared the bloodsuckers more than anywhere in the world that he had seen. They seemed indestructible, like nightmares from Hell that return every night, and all you can do to stop them is never to close your eyes. Van Helsing knew a thing or two about nightmares of such sort. It did not seem so much different to him now. The vampires, just like the dark dreams of his own, fled with the rising of the sun, only to return at the end of the day, night after night. 

His thoughts drifted back to what he had said just a while ago. He tried to remember where he had heard that legend, but he could not track any reliable source of it among the memories he could recall. Accustomed to possessing knowledge that must have been a remnant of his life before he'd lost his memory, he resolved it was the only explanation he found believable. Padraig seemed strange, a little too strange in his book, but he couldn't have caused him a déja vu like this. The hunter wasn't evil; the colors of his aura were the calming hues of blues and greens. Gabriel could tell the old man was troubled; by what, he could only guess. It could be the current situation; he understood it well when it became clear that he would come to face it himself soon enough. It could be something out of his past. It could be anything, and Gabriel was convinced it was none of his concern. 

Leah's quiet voice pulled him out of his thoughts. 

"The tomb," she said. "That's where the heart is. That's why they protect it so well." 

"It's possible," said Padraig, sitting down on a chair he had pulled up next to them. "Nothing is certain. But it's surely worth a try." 

Leah shrugged and sent him a scornful look. "And you're telling me this _now_?" 

As the man nodded, she suddenly felt angry, her cheeks began to burn and her stomach turned. "Why now?" she asked. "Why not years ago? Before so many of our people died trying to accomplish the impossible?" She tried to pin him down with her questioning look, a glint of accusation and resentment in it, demanding that he revealed whatever his reasons were for keeping all that information hidden for so long. Yet the old man was still like a stone, though his gaze was turned downward and he refused to look her in the eye. 

"Why now?" she repeated somewhat harshly. 

Padraig shook his head, suddenly seeming to have lost patience with her lack of understanding something he apparently deemed obvious enough. "Because," he spoke, finally returning her stare with a hard one of his own, "Had you tried it alone, and I know you would have, no one would have seen you alive ever again." He glanced at Gabriel, the curves of his face softening a little. "Neither of you should attempt it alone. Together, you might come out of this alive." 

Stricken by a sudden realization, Leah slumped in her chair. Now she knew for sure what she had suspected from the moment she entered through Padraig's door. Still with a bit of disbelief, she said, "You _knew_ why we came. You knew all along." 

"No," the hunter said simply, and silence lay between the three for a few unbearably long seconds. 

It sounded convincing to her, but even though in his face Leah saw no hint of a lie, she was wary of him now more than she had ever been. The strangeness of this visit had played with her instincts, telling her something was not right. She remained silent, hoping to hear the truth after all. Losing trust in that man did not come easily; she was loath to listen to a hunch that whispered against what she had known for years. 

"I didn't know," said Padraig, addressing her doubt as if she had given it a voice. "But I hoped." He rose to his feet. "Beware his Ghouls servants. Each has the strength of two, twice as vicious as they had been in life. Their eyes are keen, but they're not quick to act on plans of their own. They're not expecting you, so you stand a chance. Unless told otherwise, they should keep their posts. Take them down quickly, and pray that your lucky stars rise early tonight." 

---

As they left Padraig O'Hely's house, each lost in thought, the air was thick with suspicion and doubt. For a while, neither of them spoke. 

They rode southward toward the shore, where the Emerald Isle met with the Atlantic sea. As the narrow lane became wider and the trees fewer, Gabriel couldn't help but notice the strange silence that lay about the land. The wide open plains ahead of them, the still-green hills brought to life by the subtle luminosity of the autumn sun, were now almost lifeless despite the light. No, it was more than just silence that stirred his blood as he looked around. Were it not for the uncanny feeling in the air, a streak of foulness only he could sense, the landscape around him would take his breath away. At any other time, perhaps he would even be able to step aside from the path of brooding thoughts he carried with him everywhere he went. Maybe he would even enjoy watching how the tall trees, bent by the winds sweeping across the land from the shore, and by the pressure of time, leaned gently ever-down. 

But this was not the time for such things. The task at hand rendered him troubled, and the old hunter didn't help at all. Surprised, Gabriel realized that he had become so numb in all he had done in the past few months, that he had nearly forgotten how it felt to hear his own heartbeat, albeit even as it always was, stand out against the stillness of the air. Even their mounts were anxious; Gabriel could feel the animal's muscles twitching madly under him. They too must have sensed that evil, for as they neared the shore, it became ever harder to tame them. 

Leah slowed down to a trot, waiting for Van Helsing to catch up with her. "How did you know that?" she asked, looking over her shoulder. "The legend. Thirty years and I've never heard of it." 

Gabriel shrugged. He knew this was coming, but since he could not quite believe the answer to this himself, he was reluctant to reveal it to Leah. He said, "I must have heard it somewhere." She would have to settle for what he believed to be half-truth. 

"Unlikely." Leah raised an eyebrow, eyeing Gabriel with care. "Van Helsing, if you know something, it's time you stopped keeping it to yourself." 

Slowing down the horse, he shook his head. "There's nothing more that I can tell." 

"This won't be child's play." Leah seemed irritated, though more disturbed by the ever growing number of questions requiring immediate answers, and finding none. "If I am to die there, I'd rather it's because of plain old bad luck, than ignorance." 

"Then perhaps you should have pushed your friend a little harder," he shot back not without a hint of discontent. 

Her head whipped around and she brought her horse to a halt, angered by those words. Then she realized that Van Helsing was right. So he too knew something was amiss. She bit down on her lower lip and remained silent. 

"He's never been like that," she said at length, a little more reluctantly than she wished to. "I've known him for years. Why would he lie?" 

"I was hoping you would tell me." 

A sudden thought churned her stomach and Leah looked away. "You don't think he's allied with Liam, do you?" she asked quietly, uneasily. 

The answer came just as quiet. "He isn't evil." 

Leah turned around, frowning. "How do you know? You've never seen him before, have you?" she asked suspiciously. 

Van Helsing shook his head 'no'. "I can… sense it," he said with reluctance, observing how she reacted to his words. "Every living person has an aura about them that is their true nature. I see it. Padraig isn't evil." 

Her head tilted, Leah's eyes narrowed slightly. "There's more to you than meets the eye," she said at length. "Still, it's the castle, or the graveyard. Either way, we're pushing our luck," she said, sighing, but her expression lost some of the shade of doubt. If this were what they had to do, she would be armed and ready to go as far as it took to succeed. 

"We can do both." Gabriel shifted his weight in the saddle. "It's still light. We'll scout the terrain before they wake, and see if the old man's tale was of any worth." 

As Leah nodded her agreement, Van Helsing urged his horse forth. It was still midday, plenty of time to look around and devise a plan. Nonetheless, there was no time to be wasted. He looked back. 

Leah trotted behind him at a leisurely pace, watching him with a curious look. "Van Helsing?" she asked as she caught up with him. "What is the aura you see about me?" 

_A too familiar one_, he thought to himself, suddenly feeling just like the previous night - intrigued, anxious, unsure, yet somewhat enthralled. For the past several hours he had tried to ignore what he saw in her, but it proved hard. Now and then he even wanted to ask; perhaps her answer would chase away the treacherous mist of expectation and hope. But when a chance came, he decided not to take it. 

"You're not evil, either," he said with a half-hearted smirk. 

"But we already knew that," she said, a little disappointed. "Is that all you can see? Good or evil?" 

Gabriel swallowed audibly, letting his gaze slide away from hers and he urged his horse to speed up. "That's useful enough, don't you think?" he said, never looking back. 

He knew Leah was there, right behind him. He was glad she was silent and pursued the matter no more. He knew that, in all likelihood, letting her in on one of his secrets was a mistake he should not have made. Through all those years, he had always known better than to share more than was necessary - even as some people, who had become close to him, inquired about it with their ever-so-gentle persistence. 

Until now. 

She had asked, and he had answered, breaking the vows of silence he had sworn to himself seven years ago. Much to his distress, deep down Gabriel knew that just a while ago he had felt as if a great burden had been lifted off his chest, but that feeling quickly fled. The shreds of secrets, the thin streaks of memories running down the blank pages of the book of his past, were merely a part of who he was. He had once thought that the other half had been locked in the unknown. It was what he had pursued all those years. 

Yet, now he knew. No matter what lay behind, it was the way he stepped on the road still ahead of him that determined who he was. And how much easier it was to walk that road with someone by his side. 

Leah's question kept coming back to him like echo returned the eagle's piercing cry. _It was white_, his thoughts answered, even though he would not tell her this. _The pure white of affection with blue hues of mild grief, like an overcast morning sky_. 

Even as they saw the castle looming ahead of them, Gabriel's attention was as much on the task as it was on the woman who rode by his side. They hadn't spoken since the question was asked that had made them stray into ominous grounds. Now, still in silence, Gabriel and Leah scouted the land for any places where the enemy could be lurking. For themselves, they found the quickest ways to escape, and set a meeting place in case they would part in the dark. 

The castle and the adjacent buildings seemed entirely abandoned. While the day was in full, it was easy to believe that the vampires and their pets were but a myth, conjured up by the elders to give children a fright, and told in pubs to pass away the long winter nights. Yet as the sun lowered its face toward the horizon, and the darkening clouds with golden linings overhead covered the sky, the presence of evil seemed to grow nearer. Waiting for nightfall in the vampires' lair would equal certain death; the hunters decided, though both with a similar dose of reluctance, to check if the graveyard nearby indeed held what the legend told. While the light of the day forced the undead to stay hidden, the hunters would be fairly safe. 

---

They left the horses hidden, far enough so that their impatient whining would not betray their presence. The evening was cold, as it always was at the end of October. The icy wind from the sea chilled them both down to the bone, but it was not the time to notice. Quiet and cat-like, they slowly made their way toward the graveyard, moving sideways, like shadows, among the hills. 

Far upon the hill, the ancient crosses stood in their fading majesty, tall and solemn against the darkening sky. Silence could be deceiving; if what Padraig had told them about the guarded tomb was true, the hunters expected to have company soon enough. 

The old wood moaned quietly when Leah and Gabriel jumped across a fence. Van Helsing dropped to the ground, listening. He motioned to Leah to hold still; soon he picked up a sound, far and faint, of leaves rustling under someone's feet. 

With a wave of his hand, he pointed to whence the sounds came and, rising as quietly as he could, Gabriel wove his way among the graves. Far in the west, the last hues of the crimson sunset faded away, shy in the presence of the night's blanket of silky black. At the far end of the graveyard, hidden behind an opaque curtain of shadow, an old medium-sized crypt loomed over the crosses and tombs of lesser size. 

By an unspoken agreement between them, Gabriel and Leah split up. The huntress continued north-west, while her companion sneaked up on the crypt from the other side. No Ghoul was yet in sight, but their heavy steps grew louder as Leah came nearer. Her own steps small, each carefully placed not to make a sound, she covered several yards staying low and watching for any signs of guards other than those by the crypt. Soon she heard their footfalls no more; they had not yet sensed her presence. Then she saw them - two shadows ahead of her, inanimate like statues made of stone. A small smile came on her lips; neither of the Ghouls had turned in her direction even as she approached. If she kept quiet and managed to come close enough unseen, the fight would not take long. 

Three steps before she reached them, Leah drew two daggers from their sheaths. Then a noise came from the eastern side - a muffled sound of breaking bones. Smiling wryly, she leapt behind the nearest guard just before he moved; like a statue brought to life by a breath of wind he rushed forth, but he did not get far as Leah's knife cut his throat. 

The hollow noise of a falling body left the other Ghoul bewildered and unsure; hesitating between two directions to go, he lingered a second too long. Kicking his dead brethren aside, Leah dropped to one knee and threw the other dagger with great force. The momentum carried it straight toward its aim; as the dagger embedded in the guard's neck, death claimed him quickly and restrained his final cry. 

Short ways away, the creak of a snapping neck was the last sound to be heard before silence lay about the graveyard again. 

Leah sheathed one dagger. Retrieved the other from the slain Ghoul, wiped it clean. When she looked up, Van Helsing emerged from the darkness behind the crypt, dusting off his hands. 

"That was almost too easy," she whispered, glancing around. 

Gabriel nodded. "That's what worries me," he said. "We're not alone." 

Frowning, Leah took a quick inventory of her surroundings. Nothing in the quiet of the night signified that they had more company. 

As if on cue, a small flame flickered down the hill, just behind the fence. Two, three, one by one torches lit up around them, closing in on them faster and faster as they came. In the trembling light, black-clad silhouettes moved steadily forth. Several Ghouls emerged from behind the distant graves, as if they had been hiding in the ground while the hunters took down the four guards. 

Her eyes darted around wildly as Leah reached for her blade. Back to back with Van Helsing, who had readied his crossbow in a matter of seconds, she watched as the shadows of the fallen men surrounded them in a circle. Their faces were white and their eyes eerily black when she saw them in the light of flames. Some halted at a distance, others merely slowed down their march, yet they kept approaching from all sides - how many, she couldn't tell. Too many. 

The two hunters turned around slowly. Neither of them had hoped the task would have been as easy as it had seemed, yet they had never expected to be outnumbered by so many. The Ghouls moved almost without a sound; only the fire's restless sizzle could be heard as it licked at the torches with unfaltering passion. 

Behind her, a sword cut the air in a piercing swish. Leah whirled a fraction of a second before the blade found its aim in her flesh. Paring the blow, out of her eye's corner she saw that many others, encouraged by the leading aggressor, advanced on their preys. The bolts launched at great velocity from Van Helsing's crossbow darted through the air like a livid rain, some reaching their targets with perfect accuracy, some falling limply out of sight. The Ghouls fell, one by one, as Leah swung her saber against their ever-quicker blows, yet she felt that her body was growing weary by the second. 

Backed against the crypt's front wall, Leah struggled for breath. Her counter blows became weaker, slower, yet somehow still fast enough to keep the enemy at bay. With Van Helsing out of sight, she had to focus the harder to keep her mind clear of fear for his life and for her own. Around her, the torches colored the night crimson red entwined with orange and yellow as the flames danced on the wind. 

Sending another beast dead to the ground, Leah felt weak in her knees and the sword almost fell from her hand. Regaining her balance, aware of having lost her focus, she thought only that of all hazardous jobs she had dared thus far, the one she had taken upon herself this time had given a proof of her folly. 

But no more strikes came, neither then, nor the second after. Raising her head, Leah caught a glimpse of Gabriel, still strong on his feet, engaged in a fight. The surrounding Ghouls stood still in a wide arc, each holding a torch. 

_Clap, clap, clap_, came the sound behind them, strangely clear against the slowly subsiding noises of the fight. At first, her mind barely registered it - the sound came from distance, like the tick-tack of a clock that disturbs the morning sleep. Then it quickened, and slowed down once more, and it could have been ignored no more. The ever-changing rhythm told her that the sound could not have been just a part of the battle song. It was _deliberate_. Leah turned around as the Ghouls broke their circle, parting to make way for someone she could not yet see, but she knew he was there. 

She saw Van Helsing, whirling furiously between two besotted men, paring their blows as they kept rushing at him, two at once. But her vigilant eyes caught a brief glance of a tall man; different than all others, for he stood at a halt while many others were still on the move. Her eyes narrowed, she stopped as the stranger looked straight at her. 

If her heart could beat any faster, it would beat its way out of her chest - instead, all of a sudden she felt as if it stopped. Her body was still, as though it got locked in a chunk of ice. Heedless of all sound and sight but the tall, dark silhouette in front of her, and a pair of snow-white hands that still clapped to the rhythm of the fight, Leah focused on it as the man strode to her at an unhurried pace. At any other moonless night like this, where the only light was that of the torches glowing in a circle of flickering flames, she would have not seen nor recognized his face from such distance. Yet now she knew - was it her sight that grew keener as her fear grew fierce? Or was it the small voice in her mind that whispered his name in a tone that felt unwelcome and strange? 

"Liam," she said slowly. 

Though he could not have heard it, the vampire nodded and sent her a smile just as his name faded on her lips. She could not help but stare at him in some strange kind of awe, drawn to him so much stronger than her will was able to resist. Deep down she knew - she hated that face; it had of old haunted her dreams, and year after year she fed on the hope that one day she would bring end to his mockery of life. Now, looking so intently into his lifeless eyes, she found them strangely beautiful. 

She barely registered someone darting towards her and shaking her by the arms. Just as she would look to see what occurred, _he_ would capture her, again and again, with that smile that carried no warmth, eyes that shone bright but not with the sparkle of life, open arms that spoke of invitation she knew she was forbidden to heed. Leah willed herself to tear her sight away from him, for just long enough to glance to her left. Van Helsing was there, and he was… afraid? She couldn't understand the urgency written in his face, nor the terror that set his eyes ablaze. She had no time. The eyes of another were calling out to her, with a soundless cry that tore her mind to shreds. 

_What do you fear? _ She asked in her mind, before the memory of her companion dissolved into nothingness. But no answer came; instead, all movement around her ceased, and everything was silent and still. 

_He_ was drawing nearer and nearer, his steps unbearably slow - did she really wish for him to reach her already? Or perhaps it was Leah herself who had lost the sense of time and place, as the vampire gradually claimed her with his charm. His eyes, so magnetic and deep, saw through her, through her veil of indifference, down to the deepest corners of her heart that she had hidden from the world. _Come_, something in her mind told her in a soft voice. _Come, mo mhuirnín_. 

It was not until she took one tentative step forth, and she saw something - someone - a shadow at first, then the contours of a person grew clearer, that she heard a vicious laughter that shattered the glass cage of silence that separated her from the world. 

"Truly," the voice laughed, "You two seem so well matched. Like sunrise and sunset." 

Leah frowned and, glancing to her side, at last she understood the speaker's meaning. Van Helsing stood still and silent like a stone, mirroring her awe in his blank stare set upon the vampire. A sudden wave of anger shot through her body, and Leah's eyes darted back to Liam. Then she felt it - a sting of cold at the back of her mind, spreading quickly until her body sensed the physical chill and she shuddered. She felt him in her mind - was it possible? _What are you doing to me? _ She kept asking. But even though the vampire's lips were still, she heard bright laughter echoing in her ears. _Go away_, her mind wailed, but she knew it was no use asking such a favor of that beast of a man. She looked up at him, as though an invisible finger lifted up her chin, and some uncanny force bound her eyes to his. At once she felt rage washing over her, but for now, it was easily tamed within the bonds of the vampire's charm. 

His voice was not vicious, as his laughter had been, when Liam spoke again. It was familiar. She knew what he would say before he opened his mouth. He _let her know_ so that she would have no doubt as for the meaning of his words. 

"You _deserve_ one another," he said, as he took a step to where she and Van Helsing were. Then he laughed again, out loud, and the sound was devoid of all warmth. 

Sobered up in an instant, yet still unable to move, Leah shot a wild look that was met with the vampire's cold, amused eyes. 

Van Helsing stood still, frowning; he stared at Liam, as though he tried to remember him. _Did he speak to you too? _ Leah asked in a hardly audible voice - not even a whisper - but Gabriel paid her no heed. Why was he doing so? What was it that he was remembering? 

As if on cue, Liam's clear voice shot through the still silence. "Yes," he said, capturing Van Helsing with his piercing gaze, "You deserved the gift I had once offered you, Gabriel. But you deserve it no more." 

Fully back to her senses, Leah felt that whatever it was that had tamed her so far, it couldn't contain her fury any longer. She advanced on the vampire, but her sword was strangely heavy in her hand. Even as much strength as she spent on swinging it against him, she knew it was not enough - the monster had no fear of her at all. Not until her blade was merely an inch from his neck did he dodge, and only so much as to avoid her strike. He caught her wrist, forcing her to bend down under his weight. The blade fell to the ground. 

Struggling against his grip, Leah noticed that behind her, Van Helsing had begun the last desperate attempt to win freedom for them both. His blades whirled with fury, wreaking havoc upon the Ghouls. She knew he must have overcome Liam's power over him, somehow - or had the vampire released him for the sake of his own pleasure? She could not be sure. She watched as Gabriel fought his way out of the circle that four Ghouls formed around him. He tried to drive them away, sending one after another to the ground dead - but Leah knew that whatever he did, it was hopeless. 

"Look," whispered Liam, just behind her ear. "Savor this, mo mhuirnín." 

His voice sent her jumping; his face was just next to hers, and Leah had not sensed him draw so near. She never felt his breath on her skin - the vampire's chest was not moving at all, his skin was pale, almost white, his eyes black as midnight sky. 

"Look, how his cold precision shatters and breaks." Still holding her with his one hand, spending impossibly little effort on holding her down, Liam pointed his other hand to where Van Helsing had just beheaded another of the vampire's foul servants. "Is wrath not a glorious thing?" 

Leah watched helplessly as in the place of one slain Ghoul two more emerged from the circle around them, darting wildly, but not mindlessly, towards their lone opponent. Soon Van Helsing stood his ground no more, then he struggled to his feet, just to fall again. He kept paring the quick, heavy blows that came upon him from all sides. Yet no matter how many Ghouls fell lifeless on the blood-soaked ground, more and more would come, until Gabriel began to falter. 

Leah knew that they had lost. She had not the strength to do so much as to strain against Liam's grip. They could be slain any second now, both of them, and yet both were still alive. It was just a cruel game, the first act in the prince's perfect play. 

"Human anger carries such great worth," meanwhile Liam continued, pulling Leah out of her reverie. "It is also the one thing that makes them valuable. All else is their weakness." 

Her vision was blurred - not by pain, but strangely enough, not by the fear for her own life, either. Against the wrath that would have driven her into battle, had Liam granted her a vent to unleash it, within her there was fear for Van Helsing's life. She hadn't fully realized that until she saw him fall, again and again, still rising to his feet in his hopeless persistence. _There are so many of them_, Leah thought to herself as Gabriel hit the ground hard again. It hurt to watch it, but she could only do so much as stare at him in silent anguish. 

"Yes," said Liam, as if answering her unspoken plea to call the Ghouls away, "My servants deserve a bit of a reward for their blind obedience. Long have they awaited this day, as have I." 

"I hate you," at last she managed to utter through her gritted teeth. 

"Of course you do," Liam laughed, observing with clear pleasure as two of his servants dragged Van Helsing, half-conscious, towards their master. "You always have, have you not?" Liam whirled her sharply, and forced her to meet his possessive stare. "It is exactly what makes _you_ valuable." 

Two servants tied Van Helsing as he slowly struggled to return to his senses. A scrollwork of blood obscured his features; his resistance was now almost unnoticeable, his eyes half-shut, his mouth a thin, tight line. He made no sound as the Ghouls lifted him up; instead, he focused his stricken stare on Leah's face. 

Slowly, she shook her head. It was not supposed to happen this way. Now she knew; it was a trap, and they had been led straight into it. She thought of Padraig; had he done it on purpose? Had he known all along what would lie in wait for them as they entered the graveyard? Had he betrayed them? 

She felt strong hands grab her from behind, and for a moment, ground escaped her feet. A Ghoul carried her short ways to where his fellow servants were fixing tight bonds around Gabriel's ankles and wrists. They needed no command, everything happened as though it had been carefully planned, and each of them now acted on their master's plan. She thought bitterly that the possessed men were not the only ones that played their parts exactly as Liam had wanted. Van Helsing and Leah herself, they too were a part of his plan, and unwittingly they did his bidding. 

Liam strode toward Gabriel, his steps light as though he danced, floated just above the ground. He came near, so near that the two men were just inches away. The vampire studied Van Helsing's face; Leah could not see his expression, but she suspected that the fire of sheer victory glowed in his evil eyes. Then he did something Leah had all but expected - he lifted his hand, and wiped the blood from Gabriel's eyes. The gesture was almost like a caress - slow, gentle, _caring_. Leah shuddered violently, straining against the iron grip, but the Ghoul guard held her firmly in place. 

"Look what you have made me do," said Liam in a quiet, almost regretful voice. "So long have I been waiting for this day to come. Yet when at last it came, you stand before me as my foe, not friend." 

Van Helsing did not respond; Leah saw he was struggling for consciousness, but his head kept dropping onto his chest, his eyes still open, but barely. She knew that now it was only a matter of time before she would come to watch him die. 

The vampire stepped aside, taking in the whole of Van Helsing's limp form. Just as he did so, Gabriel seemed to have returned to his senses a little, as though it was such closeness of evil that pushed him onto the brink of unconsciousness. He opened his bleeding mouth to speak, but Liam hushed him with a wave of his hand. 

"Do not bother, my friend, save your strength," he said. The tone of his voice was a sheer mockery of the meaning of his words. "You shall need it, when the time comes for us to have the conversation I have anticipated for so long." He turned to Leah, a smile twisting his handsome face. "But that time is not yet come. For even in chaos there must be _some_ order." 

With those words, Liam approached her, and Leah felt her strength leaving her again. She knew that if the Ghoul released her now, she would slump onto the ground, even though physically, her body suffered from no wound. Liam waltzed toward her, and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. Leah spat at him in anger; the only resistance she could still will herself to manage. 

The vampire seemed unaffected; where Leah had been expecting a wild outburst of anger, came only a brilliant, reverberating laughter. "You prove my judgment of you right, mo mhuirnín," he spoke with passion, tracing the line of her cheek with his long, slender finger. He was, however, turned to face Gabriel and she knew he was watching as the cruel game continued uninterrupted. 

"I truly hoped to win you both for my ranks," Liam continued, "Yet I see that you, my dear friend, have not changed at all. But there is still hope," he added lightly after a pause. "Time will break you, Gabriel called Van Helsing, for this time, there is none to come between you and me." 

Leah caught a glimpse of Gabriel's eyes. She willed her mind to cling to him and to the hope that not all was yet lost. But in his blood-covered face she found no consolation, no reassurance. He would not die defeated, that much she could read in the whole of his posture, but try as she might, she could not move under Liam's charm so that in death she could keep her dignity. If she were to die like this, her body defeated by the power of the vampire's mind, she would be once more what she had sworn to be never again - weak and useless. She swallowed audibly as Liam's cold palm brushed against her neck, and his eyes searched hers, forcing her to meet his gaze. Against her will she obeyed; in her mind she tried to summon the image of Van Helsing, of her family, of Padraig, whom she silently blamed for all that had come to pass, if only that would help her keep Liam from invading her thoughts again. 

Suddenly his hand brushed across Leah's face, forcing her eyes shut, and she saw a flash of bright light. She struggled to regain her focus, only narrowly avoiding succumbing to panic. Slowly she managed to redraw Gabriel's face from the shreds of her thoughts, although Liam's cold touch seemed to have the power to wipe her memory clean. She felt a wave of relief come over her at that small victory. She managed to resist the vampire's charm this time, if only for a while. 

Intent upon keeping Van Helsing in the center of her thoughts, at first she failed to realize that what she was seeing was not what she had looked upon before she closed her eyes. The contours of Gabriel's face were clear in her mind, but no blood stained him, and his eyes looked warm and shone with glee. He spoke words she could not hear; a cage of silence kept her locked away. She wanted to cry out, but her voice caught in her throat as she saw, in her mind's eye, a young woman in a long, white gown. Held gently in the arms of a tall man; Leah almost felt his touch as though it were real. The two laughed, and this time the silence was gone - the sound filled her completely, in an instant making her forget the pain and fear. It echoed long after she saw them come to a halt, breathing deeply from exhilaration, and looked into each other's eyes. 

In the woman's face Leah recognized herself. 

She was calm now, taking in the vision as it played before her eyes, for it gave her hope. She looked around with the woman's - her own? - eyes, and she heard her own voice as it whispered one name, time after time. 

Liam's hand slid down her cheek, down her neck and arms. The vision blurred and dissolved into pitch black darkness, yet Leah felt her lips moving still, subconsciously, but never against her will. She knew that all she could think of now was that man, and his name it was that found its way through her lips so that the world would also know. _Gabriel_, she whispered deliriously, again and again. The battle between wrath at the courses of fate, fear of the unknown, and love she understood only now, had come to an end. She barely felt the cold of the world around. 

She did not see the triumphant look on Liam's face, as he released her from his grasp but she had not moved at all. She did not see the look of terror and pain in Gabriel's eyes, his lips parted as though he wanted to speak, but time had stopped before he made a sound. She did not see him look away, his eyes shut tight, as the vampire raised a silver dagger above her head and, smiling ever so slightly, he drove the blade into her chest. 

Slumping onto the ground, Leah knew only that she had failed. 

---

_Mo mhuirnín_ (Irish Gaelic) - My dear

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

First of all, I'm really, really sorry that it's taken me a whole month to update. Not really my fault, though. First week after posting chapter seven I was away from home, and then computerless for the next two weeks. But, finally it's arrived. It's also damn long, as you had a chance to find out, but I hope you're still with me. Note: This is really, really far from being the end of the story ;) So don't panic, and keep your eyes open - you never know who is who in Hunter's Game ;) 

**Blood Cresant**: Suspense is what keeps my readers coming back to this story whenever I update ;) It's also one of my favorite tools in writing. Suspense and deceit ;) 

**Artemis1860 **: There you go, now you know what comes next ;) Luckily, I still have a couple of susprises up my sleeve ;) 

**Verona Dracula**: Wahhh, I never get around to keeping promises much, eh? I did leave you a review a couple of days ago, though. Sorry. As an excuse I have the explanation provided at the beginning of my A/N =P Anyway, next chapter is up. Hope you like it =) 

**ElvenPirate41**: How about now, eh? Sorry it took so long. Can't wait to find out what you think of my evil ideas ;) 


	9. The Bonds of Blood

**IX. The Bonds of Blood**

Sheltered in the numbing arms of darkness, Gabriel dreaded the moment he would have to open his eyes. 

A rush of frantic thoughts blended together and faded to black in his mind. His narrow avoidance of frenzy, when Liam's silver dagger glimmered in torchlight, had sent him tumbling down the road of despair as a quiet, hollow sound of Leah's body sinking to the ground reached his ears. His hands were tied, the rope fixed to something overhead. It held him firmly even as he had lost the strength to stand on his own, and hung limply by his wrists. 

A number of gashes and cuts in his flesh burned with searing pain, but the throbbing helped him cling to his conscious state. He could smell blood; whether Leah's, or his own, he wasn't sure. The call of the dark to stay in its arms forever spoke of temptation and relief from the hideous truth that he had failed, but he knew he would not heed it, yet. 

His eyelids were heavy, but slowly Gabriel forced them open. 

In the crimson light, he saw Leah's body laying at his feet. Her unseeing eyes were still wide and turned upward. As he looked down, he met death eye-to-eye. It had the color of quickly cooling steel. 

The sight of a long-fingered, pale-skinned hand brushing her eyelids close made Gabriel grit his teeth. For the first time since he remembered, his heart was pounding furiously in his chest and his breath came in quick, shallow gasps. Here and there, the vampire's slender hands were painted with streaks of red. He leaned over Leah's body, inhaling her scent. The black stain on her chest, with the silver dagger still embedded in the middle, kept spreading even as Gabriel looked at it. 

With his eyes half-closed, as though he were in a trance, Liam retrieved the knife with a slow move. Inch by inch, he watched as it slipped out of the body of the woman whose life it had cut. As he raised it above his head, as if to stab her again, the vampire's eyes shot open and he looked up. 

"Yes," he whispered, "The chaos is over." 

Gabriel was trembling, quivering with anguish and wrath. His eyes never looking away from Gabriel's, Liam smiled even as he brought the dagger to his lips. He ran his tongue along the sharp edge, licking off the blood from the silver blade. He shivered, a loud sigh of pleasure escaping his chest. Then he rose to his feet, tall and proud with his head up high, and met Gabriel face to face. 

Touching the drops of sweat on the man's forehead, the vampire gave a small shrug. 

"How human," he spoke with contempt. "You have lost much of your spirit, Gabriel." 

Van Helsing watched with disgust as the vampire wiped Leah's blood from the corners of his lips. Under his stare, he felt pressed hard against the stone wall. Crushed. Dishonored and disgraced. Reduced to a mere puppet dancing on his whim. Fury blurred his vision, boiling his blood, and Gabriel's body jerked with violent labor against the bonds. 

Liam's hands upon his shoulders stayed him, pushed him down, fueling up the searing fire in his muscles and joints. Breathing hard, Gabriel looked the vampire in the eye. 

"I'm surprised to see you come so late," Liam said, tilting his head. "But it was this day, this moment, that has sustained me all those years." 

Cold sweat trickled down his face. Straining against the rope, wrought so tightly around his wrists that it cut his skin, Van Helsing sent the vampire a wry, feigned smirk. "And I thought it was human blood," he said with slight difficulty, and spat blood, squinting. 

Liam laughed. "Please, Gabriel. You and I both will do _all_ it takes to survive." 

He found it hard not to keep glancing down, where the sight of Leah stirred his blood, clutched at his heart, and made his eyes burn with tears. Emotion was his downfall, he knew, yet anger and grief each had their share in Gabriel's submission to its power. Before he knew the pain of guilt anew, hatred toward Liam would be the most powerful thrust. Exalted as the vampire made himself appear, in his eyes he was no more than a beast, weak in his invincibility. Dependant on others to survive. 

And yet, it was in his hands that now lay Van Helsing's life. 

"How do you know me?" he asked uneasily, meeting the black pools of malice that were the vampire's eyes. 

"Ah." Liam threw his hands in the air, putting on a theatrical countenance. A step forth took him inches away from Van Helsing's face. "It's so sad," he said slowly, "That you have no memory of your _brother_." 

Gabriel blinked, frowned, repeated the vampire's words in his mind. Half-swept out of reality, wrestling with nausea that twisted his guts, he almost convinced himself that it was all his mind's work. No words had been said, the vampire had never charmed him into obedience, had not captured him. Leah had not died; she was safe outside of this nightmare, in the real world where vampires were vanquished with stakes, where he too would find safety, if only he managed to wake up. And for the most part, Liam had _not_ just said _that_. 

"What?" he said weakly. 

"So many memories, and all gone." Liam leaned in close to him. A fall of dark hair hid the vampire's face in shadows. "_He_ stole them from you, just like he stole you from me. On God's whim, Gabriel, you turned your back on your brother." 

Gabriel shook his head slowly as he said, "It's a lie. I don't believe you." 

Sailing ever-farther across the sea of denial, Van Helsing turned his head down and away from the vampire. Liam brought his face next to Gabriel's, lifting up his chin with his cold finger. 

"Treachery runs through your veins," he hissed in rising anger. "In return for love you have revenge to offer." 

Having released him, Liam sank to the ground next to Leah. The blade fell from his grasp. His hand ran across her face, stroked her hair, his finger traced the line of her mouth. "By her bidding," he whispered, his words trailing off slowly. Then he took her limp form in his arms, cradling her gently as he stood up. He looked Gabriel in the eye. "She is the key. But she belongs to you no more. Now she belongs to _my_ world. To _me_." 

The vampire kissed Leah's cold, still lips, savoring her taste. Yet his eyes were set upon Gabriel's, staring intently at the man's face growing pale. "Night will be her gown and blood will be her drink," Liam whispered against Leah's hair, caressing her cheek as he spoke. "Bound for eternity with her heart within my grasp." 

Gabriel heard his own voice as though it came from distance, from behind the glass wall that stood between reality and dream. "She's dead." 

Lifting up the body, the vampire sneered. He pressed the dead woman to Gabriel's chest. Her head fell back against his shoulder. Were it not for the blood blackening her clothes, she would look as if sleep had claimed her, not death. Gabriel bit down hard on his lip, fighting back the tears of frailty. 

"Would you kill to have her back, Gabriel? Would you stain your hands with blood again, so that you could lay them upon her one last time?" 

"If you had a heart," he slurred through his gritted teeth, "I'd tear it from your chest with my bare hands." 

The vampire threw back his head. His laughter echoed across the graveyard. "You didn't have the nerve to kill me when you had a chance. What makes you think you could do it now?" 

Air entered his lungs with a loud swish. He coughed up blood. With Leah's body, still warm, pressing against him, Gabriel couldn't deceive himself into thinking he was dreaming anymore. Looking at her tore him apart. For some vile reasons known only to him, the vampire had used her, as a tool to do… What? Closing his eyes, he felt one hot tear roll down his cheek. 

"What do you want?" he asked, surrendering to whatever would come. To anything but this. 

Beckoned forth, two Ghouls stepped out of the circle. As they approached their master, Liam passed Leah's body to them and turned back to Van Helsing. His servants soon vanished in the dark of the night, carrying away the dead huntress. 

"Your loyalty, as it's due," said the vampire. "Compensation for your treacherous deeds. For all those years we have lost." He bent down, lifting his silver dagger from the ground. The blade's surface flashed in front of Gabriel's eyes as the vampire brought it to his face. The sharp tip touched his cheek, leaving a small cut as Liam ran it down his skin. "Join me, Gabriel. Together, we shall bring the end to the chaos of this world." He spoke with passion, a radiating glow of madness brightening his features. "Twice before you have let me down, but let us not grow bitter over the mistakes of the past. I have so much to offer, and all you need to do is say, 'yes'." 

Darkness claimed him, but Gabriel was not sure whether he had slipped away into unconsciousness, or - which, deep down, he knew was a vain hope - he stood, at last, on the verge of wakefulness. He had not the strength to strain against the bonds anymore; he didn't even feel the pain. He felt better that way, numb and oblivious. In the dark was his refuge, where he would no longer see, hear, feel, until weakness would pass and the claws of horrific dreams let go of him. 

"It's a chance, my brother, that I'm giving you now. Yet know, that the third time shall be the last." 

No, it was not a dream. His sanctuary shrouded with shadows had shattered, brought down by the vampire's harsh tone, had fallen apart at his cold touch. Gabriel's eyes remained closed, but the sudden acute awareness brought back the nausea. His heartbeat grew furious again. 

"Should you decline," Liam continued in a voice of ice, "Trust not that you will find peace in death. For death, my dear Gabriel, is not the worst that can happen to men." 

Having gathered the remnants of strength, Gabriel wanted to speak, but he felt a hand slide over his mouth. Looking up, he could read in the vampire's face that he was intent upon playing his game a little longer. 

"Make no mistake," he whispered in Gabriel's ear. "I shall give you time to make your choice. Tomorrow by nightfall, you will answer to me as my equal, my brother. _Or_ as my servant." 

A wave of darkness swept over him, carrying the scent of death. Liam's touch was cold like winter snow upon his skin, devouring the warmth of Gabriel's body even as the vampire's hand slid down his face. Somehow it pushed him further back into himself, into a place deep within him from which he knew not the way to return. The menacing laughter, growing distant, and distant still, made him cringe and shrink. 

Clinging to the edge of awareness, too drained to keep his eyes open, he heard himself whisper, "Though I walk through the valley of shadow and death, I shall fear no evil…" 

---

_A hand held him up by the throat, clutching at it just so that he would draw no more than one shallow, labored breath at a time. Another hand covered his eyes; but between the long, cold fingers he could see a pair of black eyes staring intently into his face. He began to suffocate, the lack of air draining all energy he had left from him, but the grasp was firm upon him, and stronger still. Something sharp clawed into his skin, never letting go, until his vision blurred and white specks, like stars on the distant sky, danced before his eyes. _

The droplets of rain tapped on his head, his forehead, streaks of water running down his temples as he struggled against the iron grip. Weaker by the second, though yet far from panic, he dreaded the realization that had begun to dawn upon him as soon as he knew that he was being watched. 

"Enough." 

As the commanding voice spoke, all bonds let go of him and Gabriel fell to the ground. Coughing, wheezing, he put a hand to his throat. A streak of warm substance dripped from his fingers. Blinking to clear his vision, he strained his eyes and looked at his hand. Blood. 

He gazed up. 

"You bring such shame upon our kind." 

The voice, though familiar, startled him. He recognized the face, though at first his mind refused to accept what he saw as real. Yet he knew, and it made him sick; he had been betrayed. Ultimately, irreversibly betrayed. 

"You and I are not one kind. Not since you sold your soul," he uttered slowly. 

The black eyes pierced him, but Gabriel forced himself to bear the pain of holding his head up, the throbbing in his throat, and endured the other man's gaze. 

"But we are! And I shall tell you, my brother, that we were meant for something of far greater magnificence, than this pointless… service." 

Gabriel met the speaker face to face, so close that all he could see were those eyes, once reflecting a soul noble and pure. Now, a fire burned in them, deep within, and the soul that had once dwelt in the man was long gone. 

"You choice is yours alone. Not mine. I play no part in your game," he said in a hoarse whisper. "And for the love of God, never again call me your brother, Liam, for that is what you are not." 

"How ironic of you, my dear Gabriel, to speak here of His love." The vampire let out a laugh. "It was you, you have chosen love over God. And now, look, it has brought you here, to me, to the edge of this precipice. But I reach out my hand to you, for I owe you this. Join me, brother, I bid you, one last time." 

"Push me, if that is a brother's deed. I will not follow you to eternal death." 

"So be it." 

Around him, darkness fell. The sounds faded. The pain was gone. 

---

Seized by a sudden wave of pain in his guts, Gabriel instinctively doubled over, but found himself restrained. His hands were still tied above his head, though it was rather a matter of knowledge, as he struggled for consciousness and began to remember what had come to pass, than of perception. Trying to move his hands, or even his fingers, against the bonds that held him hanging by his wrists was a wasted effort. He hardly felt them anymore, as though his limbs were no longer his. Numb. Nonexistent. 

_Liam_. 

He remembered the dream, more clearly than ever before. For seven years, all those nights he would wake up, drenched in perspiration, gasping for breath, but the vision was no mere nightmare. He had always known that much more lay beyond it, a secret as yet unknown, the one he had wrestled to discover. More often than not he would will himself to remain in the embrace of sleep, in the arms of that horrific dream, against the urge that drove him back to wakefulness. Yet, never before had he seen so much, gone so far, remembered so well. 

_You have no memory of your brother_. 

Reverberating in Gabriel's mind, Liam's words washed away the remnants of fevered sleep. 

_Memory of your brother. Of my brother. Brother_. 

A cry escaped his lips, like a mournful howl of a wolf on a full-moon night. He tried to force his eyes open, but found it impossible. He didn't know how long he had hung there, but the streaks of blood from the cuts on his forehead bound his eyelids together. 

Around him, fire sizzled in its quiet dance upon the torches. The Ghouls were still there, keeping their watch on him as they had been told. He didn't know how many; unable to open his eyes, all he could do was estimate their number by ear. Focus came hard, disturbed by the wild waves of nausea, the searing fire burning his throat, the dull pain in his skull. Six, perhaps seven; the guards stood in a circle around him. It would be a tough fight, with his weapons gone, even if he somehow managed to break free from the bonds, even if… 

_Leah_. 

Gabriel stopped whatever effort he had been putting into his attempt to escape. His mind went blank. 

_Liam. Leah. Dead. She's dead_. 

One by one, the memories as pictures, fleeting and brief, played before his sealed eyes. The vampire with a silver dagger. The blood. Leah's body on the ground, so still, her eyes open wide, staring at him, pleading. _Save me_, they cried. _Save me_. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered to himself, too weary to will the image of Leah's dead face away from his thoughts. "I'm so sorry." 

Ice-crystals pierced his skin as he tumbled down the well of darkness. Reality was too far up to reach for it; the bottom, closing in on him, was the only way out. The easy way out. _It's been so long since I took the easy way out_, he thought. _A lifetime and more_. 

He fell and fell; weightless, yet heading ever-down, heedless of whatever conscious thoughts remained in his mind. In that dark chamber, scarlet droplets glowed in light the source of which was unknown to him. They fell along with him, splashing beneath him in a lake of blood. The only way was down, yet somehow he began to float, just over the surface, never touching it. A soft light from above spilled over him, over the bloody pool beneath. He looked down. 

The pool whirled. Hands first, an eerie silhouette emerged, shaking off the crimson veil; born of blood and yet not one with it. The enormous wings fluttered softly. Their blinding whiteness lit up the dark. The air stirred. The opening overhead grew wider, closer. The winged form lifted him up, slowly, up to the stars, gaining speed as it carried him away from the dark, from despair, from death. 

---

Gabriel gasped. 

The smell of burning wood reached his nostrils. Inhaling rapidly, he sucked in smoke. Coughed violently as it tore into his lungs. Behind him, hundreds of voices cried, hundreds of feet made the ground shake, and the smell - nauseating in his dry mouth, was yet refreshing, for it forced him out of the haven of darkness, back to the world. 

With the greatest effort, Gabriel opened his eyes. Under his barely lifted eyelids, his vision was blurry, almost black and white in the waning night. One by one, the lights before him went out as the torches fell. He squinted, straining to see what had come to pass, for there seemed to have been no signs of a fight; the guards just dropped dead. 

The voices rose in a cacophonic choir of heated cries. 

In front of him, a Ghoul sank to the ground with a soft cry. And then another. Among the noises behind and around him, bewildered, he kept trying to see the cause of the commotion, but failed. 

Then the bonds broke. He fell. Answering his painful cry, darkness took him. 

---

Awareness returned to him slowly. At first, it took the form of the sound of light steps, somewhere under him. Then the dull pain in his head, the throbbing in his arms and wrists, and the feeling that the whole world around him was spinning, gradually sobered him up. Gabriel opened his eyes with a quiet groan. 

The wind chilled him down to the bone, but it brought no relief to his sore body. He frowned. The ground beneath him seemed closer, farther, closer again. Shuddering, he tried to move. Then he realized he was on the move, though he surely wasn't walking on his own. 

Whoever was carrying him, came to a halt. Gabriel closed his eyes, squeezed them tight, as a new wave of pain came over him. Not before he felt a solid surface beneath him did he decide to look up. He blinked twice in disbelief, not yet sure whether his eyes deceived him, or if the person he saw was real. 

"Padraig?" he asked weakly. 

The old hunter leaned over him, wiping his forehead with a soft cloth. A troubled countenance dressed his face. He nodded. "You'll live," he said, a quiet tone of contentment in his voice. "But it was close, my friend, too close." 

Bile rose to his throat and Gabriel tried to swallow it down, but his mouth was dry. "Where are we? What happened?" 

Padraig smiled sourly. Slipping behind Gabriel, he helped him rise, supporting him so that he would not slump back to the ground. "See for yourself," he said. 

Gabriel looked ahead. 

For a while, all he count see was a sea of orange, yellow, red. The horizon burned, but it wasn't the rising of the sun that set it ablaze. The flames seemed to lick at the gray morning sky. His vision cleared a little, and his lips parted in a small gasp of shock at the sight that spread before him. 

Down the hill, the castle was burning. 

Gabriel fixed Padraig with a questioning stare, as yet unable to speak, trying to comprehend any of this. He remembered smoke, the cries around him when he still hung, tied up in the graveyard. Yet whatever had come to pass afterwards, was beyond him to recall. Expecting an explanation but getting none, Gabriel found himself far too perplexed to pursue it now. He remained silent, turning his gaze back to the riveting spectacle of burning light. 

Fire had spread its deadly arms quickly, claiming the fortress and the adjacent buildings. Veiled in smoke, the stone walls turned black. Slowly, Gabriel noticed people standing at a distance, watching. Small groups here and there, larger farther away; hundreds of people, with torches in their hands - like a lake of fire, and yet so small against the burning site. The wind swept up the hill, washed over the two men. The smell of burnt wood, cloth, and flesh, was sickening. 

"Three hundred against seven," Padraig said in a quiet, bitter voice. "And yet the battle is lost." 

The hunter eased him onto the ground. Not sure he understood what had transpired, Gabriel looked at him closely. "What do you mean?" 

"This assault solves nothing. It will anger Liam all the more. Driven from his home, he'll make sure his vengeance is more dreadful than ever before." 

The smoke. The fire. "Why did they do this?" he asked, wincing at the pain as he tried to move. 

Padraig let out a forced laugh. "Revenge drives men to extremes, Gabriel. They can only contain it for so long, before they snap and shove away reason, in favor of a moment of relief." He looked Van Helsing in the eye. "As far as _I'm_ concerned, it was that, or let you die." 

His thoughts formed a chaotic disarray in his mind, allowing no understanding besides that he was safe, for now, and that down there, people were dying. The hunter's words echoed in his ears, but it was a hollow sound, meaningless at the start. Fighting back weariness was hard, but his mind kept clearing, and the horror of the endeavors of the last couple of hours struck him with force anew. 

"Leah," he whispered, closing his eyes. 

"She's dead. I know." Padraig placed a gentle hand on Gabriel's shoulder. 

"_You_. You led us there. Into Liam's trap." 

The hunter sighed heavily, rising to his feet. "I didn't know it was a trap. I warned you he's a treacherous bastard, but how he knew you were coming is beyond me to guess." 

Lying there on his back, beaten and sore, Gabriel could only do so much as send the hunter a scornful look. "I don't believe you," he uttered. 

Padraig took an abrupt turn, falling to his knees by Van Helsing's side. "I swear to God!" he said, returning his stare. 

Gabriel looked away. "Your word means little to me." 

Padraig turned his gaze down, slowly shaking his head. He sat down on the ground, and hid his face in his hands. "I loved her like a father loves his only child. In a manner, she was like a child to me. Had I known-" he broke off and, looking up, he waited until Gabriel met his eyes again. 

"Had I known it would turn out like this, I would have never let you out of my house," he said. "How come Liam knew you were coming is something I have yet to find out. But I swear to God… I swear to _you_, that it wasn't I who told him." 

Standing before a choice whether or not to believe the old man, Gabriel hesitated. Padraig wasn't evil; not before, not now, and he saved his life. But even though he sought it within himself, no sparkle of trust sprung from the fire of anger and pain that burned him. 

"It doesn't matter," he said, and his face went blank, his eyes unfocused. "Too late now." 

The increasing noise told him the villagers were leaving the site down the hill. Their voices grew louder as they approached. Soon they would reach them, and see the man that many of them would gladly see as dead-cold as the vampire they had come after. Gabriel didn't care. 

But Padraig did. He rose and, with surprisingly little effort, he lifted Gabriel off the ground. 

"Let me go," he protested, but words were the only resistance he could manage. 

"I don't suppose you'd get far in your condition. And I didn't put my own life at risk just to see you dead when this mob arrives here. Their wrath was not sated, Gabriel, and you still have a task to do." 

"Where are you taking me?" 

"To Leah's house," Padraig said with a quiet sigh. "Can't go back to the village. Too many curious eyes. And you need to rest." 

He knew that an argument was a waste of both time and his strength. Padraig puzzled him; Gabriel had been almost convinced that the hunter had betrayed them. After all, Leah had known him long enough that his unusual behavior stirred doubt in her right from the start. And yet, his resistance wasn't half as strong as it should have been, if he indeed had no trust for the man at all. 

Leah. Even the slightest recollection of her sent a painful thorn deep into Gabriel's heart. He should have known better than to have walked straight into the vampire's trap. All the years of training, all the experience he had gained over time, and his trust in his own instincts had proven themselves worthless. Gabriel hardly believed in destiny; if something seemed as though it were 'meant to be', to him, more often than not, it meant only that something else - or other - should have been done, but wasn't. It was too late to brood over this now; what had happened could not be reversed. All he was left with was guilt, and a profound sadness that gnawed at him from the inside. 

Despite his strong belief in man's ability to alter the courses of his fate, he knew that he wouldn't have been able to listen to that hunch, that told him it was wrong to do what Leah and he had done. _Wrong_. Hazardous, yes; but most of his assignments heretofore had been. Borderline reckless, and folly - even more so. And yet, he could not resist the feeling that had been contradicting that hunch all this time - he would have gone against all odds and reason, and she would have gone with him, had he told her to stay, or not. 

He wondered what it meant. How could something as terrible as her death have been meant to be? Crushed under the pressure of that thought, he shrugged it off as quickly as he could. 

Even as Padraig carried him away from the burning castle, Gabriel remained silent, though questions arose in his mind one after another. He intended to ask them still, at a time more suitable for conversation than now. 

To his slight surprise, soon they reached the place where he and Leah had left their horses, strapped to a post away from the main road. Padraig lifted him up with ease and put him in the saddle, mounting the steed behind him for security and support. Gabriel couldn't help but notice that the hunter, despite his age, showed no signs of weariness, even as he had carried a man as large as himself for the past quarter. Padraig looked sixty, and even if, in this case, appearances were deceiving, he couldn't be much younger than that. And Gabriel wasn't exactly light like a child, either. Yet the man's breath had not quickened, his strength had not faltered. 

It seemed curious, yet Gabriel's mind was full of questions, out of which at least a half regarded things he deemed inexplicable. One more strangeness made things neither better, nor worse. 

---

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

The last chapter was really, really long. This, in fact, is only half the chapter - posted this way so that I don't scare you off completely with the length of my chapters =P The second half will come soon, probably next week, if I get down to it. 

While I'm at it -- Liam's quoting Plato here: "Death is not the worst that can happen to men." Yes. I'm a geek. ::snicker:: 

--- 

**ElvenPirate41**: Ha! Somehow I thought you'd like him. How about now? ;P He's showing his more cruel, wicked side here. 

**Wonda**: Dear, your reviews make me grin from ear to ear like a maniac. It's so wonderful to know how you were feeling while reading this. Keep it coming, it's suck a kick to keep writing this thing :) 

**Artemis**: Sooo, first of my surprises revealed. If you're hyperventilating like last time, please make sure you don't pass out and hurt yourself in the process =P It's still far from being the end of my surprises ;) 


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